


Law and Love

by Robin_Mask



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Arguing, Bisexuality, Break Up, Drama, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forced Marriage, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mpreg, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexuality Crisis, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 80,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Mask/pseuds/Robin_Mask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry thought it was a joke . . . </p><p>There was no way that the Ministry could expect him to marry. </p><p>Voldermort was barely defeated, their world was still in disarray, and he loved Ginny. </p><p>Unfortunately, love sometimes wasn't enough.</p><p>(Canon compliant, except for the survival of Severus)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Wizards_Vs_Muggles](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Wizards_Vs_Muggles) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>     
> THE MARRIAGE LAW IN THE WIZARDING WORLD
> 
> This present is the shortened version of the decrees. To read the full version, send a request to the ministry with the return name.
> 
> DECREE 1:
> 
> Any wizards, male or female, between the ages of 17 and 40 see themselves in the obligation to find a life partner before the AUGUST 16TH.
> 
> [...]
> 
> DECREE 3;
> 
> Every couple must get a certificate of approval by the new department of marriage of the Ministry of Magic. To get the certificate the two members of the couple as to pass a test that will determine their level of compatibility. [...] Each wizard is limited to three different tries at passing the Test. 
> 
> DECREE 4; 
> 
> After obtaining the certificate, the new couple has obligations:
> 
> \- The couple must share a living area.
> 
> \- The couple must meet with an intervenor at least once a month to keep track of their progress in their relationship.
> 
> \- The couple must formalize their arrangement by the act of procreation within three months after obtaining the certificate of approval.
> 
> \- The couple must stay faithful to each other.
> 
> DECREE 5;
> 
> After a year of commune living and shared life, the couple has to face a decision. Two options are offered to them. Whether they decided to pursue their relation with an official matrimonial arrangement or to put a stop to it. If allowed to break their relation, both wizards must agree to have their life taken care of by the Ministry.

** Chapter One **

“What the hell _is_ this?”

Harry slammed down the paperwork upon the table. It wasn’t much relatively speaking, but it was heavy enough to make a loud slamming noise upon the oak wood, and it evidently startled Hermione enough that she gave a small jump. The last thing he wanted was to spook his friend – still in school robes and with a red currant rum before her – and yet he _honestly_ couldn’t quite control his anger, but this – _this_ – was something that made the inhumane restrictions placed upon ‘half-breeds’ look almost liberal. He felt his cheeks flush.

A few of the inn’s patrons turned to look surreptitiously at them, as if they might be able to catch more than a mere glimpse of their hero, but luckily his friends chose a quiet spot in a far corner where they could talk quietly. Harry lifted the collar of his work-robes and ruffled his hair, in hopes that it would cover his scar somewhat and make him look a little more inconspicuous, but he could _feel_ people still looking at him and the conversation in the inn slightly lower than it previously seemed. He settled into a chair next to Ron and ran a hand through his hair, as he saw McGonagall by the bar and winced a little.

“Everyone’s staring at me,” he muttered.

“What do you expect?” Ron asked. “You can’t blame them, mate. You barge in here like George has set fire to your robes, then start screaming about some sort of injustice or something, it probably got everyone’s hair up. You-Know-Who is barely gone. It’s natural that everyone is all edgy. Hell, even _I_ thought something was up seeing you like that! I was scared you were going to tell us someone has died! I thought that was the _Prophet_!”

“Well, this certainly isn’t the _Prophet_ ,” said Hermione, as she took the paperwork. “I suspect that I may know what this is about, although I didn’t think you would receive it right now. I suppose it’s only fair, all things considered, but it certainly isn’t good news.”

“Fair?” Harry snapped. “I defeated Voldermort! I should at least get _some_ perks!”

“Well, arguably being a hero isn’t _about_ perks. It’s about doing what’s right.”

“Okay, so this is right? _This_ is fair?”

Hermione gave a sigh, as well as a slight jerk of her head and quirked an eyebrow. It was infuriating how she was able to speak _volumes_ without a single word, especially when all he wanted to hear was how _awful_ this was and how they would fight it, but she looked at it as if it were – were – were _normal_! Harry pursed his lips together and let out a harsh exhale of breath, as he tried to ignore how crowded the inn felt with students and teachers and locals, although the mirror over the bar only made it seem _more_ busy than it ought.

“Well, what is it?” Ron asked.

Harry continued to look around the room, so that he could look _anywhere_ than his two friends, but Hermione continued to flip through the pages at a rather rhythmic pace, as she glanced over each and every one with a curious expression. It made him nervous to see her trailing the paper with her eyes, even more so to see her take out a quill from her pocket and underline certain sections, as well as how a few specks of liquid on the table soaked through the paper where it fell. He waited an explanation. He awaited _something_.

It was a good job that Ginny decided – unlike Hermione – to stay in Hogwarts for some extra revision, as he _really_ didn’t want her to be here for this, because it was bad enough trying to _process_ what this meant for _himself_ . . . trying to have a conversation about what this meant for _them_ would have been too much. He felt his heart begin to race a little, whilst Ron leaned forward and screwed up his face at sight of the legal jargon, and it probably made about as much sense to Ron as it did to Harry, except Harry at least got the _gist_. Unlike Ron, he unfortunately was able to see the front page of the damned thing. This was a _nightmare_.

“It’s a copy of the marriage law,” said Hermione. “A summary of its decrees.”

“Huh? Is that it?” Ron asked. “I kind of expected something more.”

“Like – like _what_?” Harry snapped. “More _how_?”

Ron just shrugged. It was enough to make Harry fist his hands together and feel his nails dig into his palms, as he glared darkly at his friend, although – if this were a ‘regular’ wizarding thing – it probably never occurred to Ronald to mention it. There was generally an unspoken assumption that he ought to already know, as if they _forgot_ he spent over _half his life_ to date in a cupboard under the stairs, and he didn’t want to resent them – he honestly didn’t – but he felt so angry! It was so violating to get _this_ on his desk, but worse to know that _no one_ thought it a big deal except himself! He let out a hiss of breath and bit his lip.

“I don’t know, just -!” Ron shrugged. “This is normal, you know?”

“How – how is this _normal_?” Harry wrung a hand in the air. “I got to training this morning and _that_ was on my desk! There wasn’t even any flipping warning! Did you two get anything like this? I can’t be the only one, can I? Why isn’t the _Prophet_ reporting it?”

“Well, not everyone gets one, do they? I can’t remember ever hearing anyone in our family get one, plus Dad said we wouldn’t have to worry about it. Muggle-born wizards don’t get one for some reason, so it’s not as though I had to worry about it coming between Hermione and me, plus no one else ever talks about it. Hey, you know Draco’s got one, too? Serves the bastard right! Still, he’s marrying Astoria Greengrass . . . kind of feel sorry for her.”

“I don’t give a flying -!” Harry drew in a deep breath to lower his voice. “I don’t _care_ what Draco got or who he’s marrying, I just care about what’s on _this_ paper and how it affects _me_ , because – guess what – _I didn’t envision the ministry telling me who I could or couldn’t marry_! I have to _prove_ Ginny and me are compatible? How does that even _work_?”

“I don’t know . . . maybe you take a test? God, I hope not. I hate tests.”

“Oh, Ron,” snapped Hermione. “You’re not helping.”

Hermione gave him a sideways glance, as he sipped a butterbeer and shrugged his shoulders, and it was enough to make her roll her eyes and flick through the last few pages, although this time she did so a little more angrily than she previously managed. It wasn’t that she was angry with Ron, at least judging by how she angled her body towards him and managed to push a lock of hair behind her ear, and – well – that small intimacy and unconscious flirting just made him feel _worse_. He wanted what they had. He wanted to date Ginny, fall in love, and eventually start a family . . . this ‘contract’ would screw that up royally.

“Let’s do this one question at a time, okay?” Hermione said.

It was then that she collected the papers together, before she shuffled them into a neat pile and handed them over to Ron. The other teenager just looked baffled by them and looked around in confusion, before he dropped them into the middle of the table with a gentle throw, and it made Harry smile despite himself. Trust Ron to look dismissive when he was actually mulling things through in his mind, especially when – compared to all of them – he had _more_ reason to care than most, due to this involving his sister.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” said Harry at last. “Why do _I_ have this and no one else?”

“Well, it’s a very old law,” replied Hermione. “You would _both_ be more aware about this, if you _just_ paid more attention in History of Magic class! The law was inactive for some time, but with the war at an end and with the community so devastated in such disarray . . . I can’t say that I’m unsurprised in the least, as it’s usually after such tragedies that the law becomes reinforced and people are expected to comply. I really do wonder why no one has protested -”

“Hermione,” said Ron. “I love you, but – bloody hell – you _really_ need to get to the point.”

“I was _getting_ to that, Ronald. Look, the wizarding community is a very _small_ community, so much so that it was beginning to become a _serious_ issue concerning inbreeding, as the desperation to maintain a pure-blooded line forced unpleasant alliances. There isn’t a single pureblooded family alive that isn’t related to another in some way, which – I believe – is rather common knowledge. The law was _originally_ created to _preserve_ such lines, so that – when the line was reaching an end, the sole heir could be forced to – well – procreate.

“The pureblood heir would be married off to a suitable partner, which would enable them to continue the line,” explained Hermione. “It was originally _two_ children that were expected, much like the old ‘heir and a spare’ adage, so there was always a back-up. If two sole heirs were partnered, it had the unfortunate effect of requiring _four_ children to be produced, so each line would have two new heirs. A few centuries later and the law was adapted, so that it only came into effect when the population of wizards reached a critical low, so as to – _essentially_ – ‘repopulate’. The population has never been lower, so it’s been re-enacted.”

Harry slouched down against the table. There were _so many_ pureblooded wizards and witches, but he couldn’t recall a single message from any of his friends or acquaintances, which meant – surely – that not many people were being forced into this charade. He wondered what would happen should he refuse; they couldn’t conceivably throw him into Azkaban, not when the press would have a field day, and they couldn’t break his wand and cast him out of society either. They couldn’t really do _anything_ , could they?

He gave a long sigh, as he tried to think about how such a law would go down in the muggle world, but – in all honesty – he couldn’t think of _any_ law that _forced_ people to marry or procreate, only laws that . . . well . . . _prevented_ such things. It was hard to think what would be worse: to be told he _couldn’t_ marry or to be told he _must_. That wasn’t to mention what Ginny would think of all this! There was plenty of time to decide, with the deadline for a decision being in August, which was when he would _need_ to name a partner or -! Well, that was the question, because he _still_ didn’t know what they could do to him! Still, Ginny would just be eighteen; it was too young to even _consider_ marriage, plus what would Molly say?

It was still a mystery why _he_ was the only person in his social circle affected. He looked up and glanced around the well-lit inn, where the regulars chatted at the bar with Madam Rosmerta, and the occasional student or teacher walked in and gave them a nod. It felt like _years_ since Ron and Harry left school, even if it was no more than seven months, and seeing the faces of students he knew so well . . . missing the faces of the students he _wanted_ to see and would never see again . . . it made him feel so _conflicted_. He – he was still lost in grief and still trying to find his place in the world, and now this -! Harry shook his head.

“So why _me_?” asked Harry.

“Well, it only effects _certain_ people,” explained Hermione. “You need to fit into a set criteria in order to qualify for the law, because – well – it was deemed immoral and unethical to force _everyone_ to marry a pre-determined partner or a partner approved by the ministry. They viewed it as a violation of basic human rights. It was why the _old_ law was used, as it was considered to kill two birds with one stone . . . keeping old lines going, whilst repopulating.”

“So who qualifies?” Ronald asked. “I’m a pureblood. I didn’t get one.”

“Yes, but it’s for those whose lines are dying out, as I said. There are enough Weasley family members to keep the line going for some time, which means there is absolutely no need to enforce the law, as your line is secured and you’re seen as doing your part to keep our wizarding population up. Muggle-born wizards and witches are exempt, because the law was never changed and things were very discriminatory back then . . . our lines were worthless, not worth keeping, and even now there’s this prejudice that muggles are a dime a dozen. It’s mainly for those like Harry and Draco . . . the last of a pure-blood line in a time of need.”

“So because I’m the last ‘Potter’, I get stuck with this?” Harry shook his head and gave a sad smile. “I _saved_ the wizarding world! I _fought_ Voldermort! I – I did some things I regret, but – even through the nightmares – I’m _proud_ to have been on the sided of the Order . . . on the side of _Dumbledore_. I’ve _done_ my part already! I shouldn’t have to go through this! What – what if I go to McGonagall or Snape? Do you think they could wield some influence? I mean, surely they could say _something_ to get me off the hook?”

“Oh, Harry,” said Hermione sadly. “I don’t think so. If Draco’s father couldn’t prevent his marriage contract, I seriously doubt even McGonagall could accomplish it. Snape _barely_ survived his ordeal, too, I hear he barely has the strength to _teach_ these days, let alone help you with a long and costly legal battle. He’s _still_ trying to clear his _own_ name, and that’s with _your_ influence . . . I don’t think anyone would even hear him out, let alone listen.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this affects the dungeon bat, too,” muttered Ron, as he flicked through some of the papers. “Did you look at the details of this? It’s anyone between seventeen and forty . . . how old is the greasy git again? Maybe he’s got one, too.”

“I heard McGonagall say it was his birthday yesterday,” said Hermione. “Thirty-nine.”

“How do you _know_ all these things? How do you know a teacher’s _birthday_?”

“It’s called _listening_ , Ronald. You should try it some time.”

Harry gave a weak smile. It was still hard to believe that it had been just seven months since the war ended . . . training was intense, the school was _still_ being rebuilt around the few returning students, and the press seemed obsessed with the tragedy . . . Hermione was one of the rare few to repeat the year lost to them, whilst many younger students still refused to go back at all. Hell, he was surprised even the _teachers_ returned. Slughorn kindly covered for the months that Snape spent in a coma, but he was so _desperate_ to retire and never look back, and Harry couldn’t blame him. How could Snape and McGonagall _face_ it?

“It’s very unlikely Professor Snape would have received one,” said Hermione.

The two men shared a look, which was equal parts scepticism as it was contempt, and – although Harry respected Severus for the work he did and the sacrifices he made – he _couldn’t_ forgive him for the needless bullying or favouritism. It felt _so unfair_ that he was being made to decide by the sixteenth of August a _life-partner,_ whilst Severus only had to catch up on lesson plans and lecture to a class. Harry felt a chill run over him, although he put it down to the opening and closing door, as he glanced up to see that McGonagall and a new professor left to go outside. He wondered what they might have overheard, if anything.

“Well, why not?” Ron asked. “Harry got one.”

“Yes, but -!” Hermione rubbed at her temple. “It only applies to _certain_ witches and wizards, as I said. Professor Snape isn’t a pureblood, true, but then neither is Harry technically . . . the definition of ‘pureblood’ these days seems to be ‘mostly wizard’, although – as much as you can hide muggle heritage – you _can’t_ hide a name. Snape was his father’s name and there’s _no_ desire of the ministry to continue a muggle line. He’s likely safe.”

“Yeah, but his mum was a Prince. There aren’t many of those guys left, so if they’re _that_ desperate to repopulate then it’d make sense to call on anyone they can, right? Plus what about ‘Decree One’; it says they’ll provide Harry a list, if he can’t find anyone himself.”

“Ah, the list, well . . . that’s a little different, I shall admit.”

Hermione gave a sigh and reached out for a sip of rum. It wasn’t a taste he could get used to, but it was always far better than the firewhiskey, and yet – despite being of age now to drink – there was never really an urge to drink in the way his friends sometimes did. It may have been due to the fact he saw too many people _depend_ on alcohol, especially after the traumas of the war, and he didn’t want to risk turning out that way . . . he didn’t want to risk becoming dependent on something just to _wake up_ in the morning.

They remained in silence for a while longer, until he realised just what Hermione was saying, which was when he realised that she was _staring_ at him . . . her brown eyes filled with something akin to pity, and he felt his heart sink just slightly. Ron – as usual – seemed oblivious to the unspoken words between them, although he did look back and forth as if in search of the thing he missed, and he eventually took to drinking his beverage in turn, as if it could distract him from the rather dark topic at hand. The inn felt slightly quieter, and Harry realised that it was likely time for the students to soon return to school.

“So if Ginny doesn’t agree to this,” said Harry, “or if they don’t accept her –”

“The ministry will provide you a list in the absence of an appropriate partner,” explained Hermione. “It should just be three people, but of either gender, and they will be those deemed most compatible and appropriate. You see . . . well . . . only those like Draco and yourself will be eligible and qualify for the law, but the pool of applicants suitable for _you_ is slightly larger. Any male or female – that isn’t engaged or married – is considered a potential match.”

“So you’re saying that there could be a _handful_ of people that receive this letter, but _dozens_ of people that could potentially be listed as a suitable match? Oh, yeah, _that_ seems completely fair. Why not just throw a dart at a board full of strangers and be done with it?”

“Well, the process is more complicated than that. Plus there aren’t just a _handful_ of you.”

“Yeah, but there aren’t _loads_ of them,” said Ron. “Are there?”

Hermione bit her lip slightly and turned her head to the side, as if she were trying to hold back from saying something that she shouldn’t, although – in actual fact – it was more likely that she was striving not to admit that Ron was right. There were probably _far_ less wizards receiving the copy of the law – and the list of decrees – than there were of those that didn’t, which made Harry wonder just _where_ they were getting their pool of ‘applicants’ from.

“So if they don’t qualify for the law,” said Harry, “how do they qualify to be a _match_?”

“Well, the Ministry looks at anyone without marital attachments,” explained Hermione. “They’re usually quite good about it and investigate fully, which means those in serious relationships – even if not engaged or married – won’t be considered, but it means that there are an _awful_ lot that will be. If you’re between seventeen and forty, you’re eligible to be put onto the list of those that _are_ required to marry. Still, they take compatibility very seriously, and considering only purebloods last of their line are required to marry . . .

“If Ginny doesn’t agree – or they don’t allow it – you’ll probably be able to work out which wizards will be on your list by simple deduction. A witch would need to be around your same age, for fertility reasons, although a wizard could be of any age . . . they would likely be half-blood, simply as a muggle-born would _never_ be considered and a pureblood risks more inbreeding to a stronger degree. They would need to from within the country, to avoid the risk that you might immigrate and thus decline the population further. They would either need to match your monetary income or at least have financial stability, whilst having no convictions or loyalty to the Death Eaters. It’s easy to narrow it down.”

“Bloody hell,” muttered Ron. “So he could end up with someone like Snape or Blaise? Hey, what if – you know – Harry doesn’t swing that way? Here it says: ‘any complaints as to the attribution of the list will be ignored’. Does that mean he can’t argue about whose _on_ the list or just that he can’t argue against being _given_ a list?”

“It’s an archaic term, Ron. They mean to say he can’t argue its _authority_ , which means any persons on the list are – well – there to stay. They would likely choose both male and female, in case preference _is_ an issue, because you can’t really procreate if . . .”

“If you broomstick snaps before the big match?”

“Something like that.”

Harry never even _considered_ that. The idea that – if things didn’t work out with Ginny – he could be paired with a _man_ was unthinkable. It – it wasn’t that he was homophobic or opposed to same-sex relationships, especially when even in the muggle world such unions were legal and accepted, including Ireland and neighbouring countries, but just that he wasn’t quite sure that he _was_ bisexual. There hadn’t been time during school to explore his sexuality, and he loved Ginny too much to cheat or separate . . . what if it _was_ an issue?

It was then that McGonagall opened the inn door to call inside that it was time for the students to leave, which let a swirl of snow flurry inside and a cold draught blow through, and she closed the door rather abruptly. The war left marks on them all, but perhaps more so on McGonagall. The headmistress seemed to wear a few more lines on her face than she once did, as well as bearing a slightly sterner demeanour, and he could tell that the younger years were intimidated by her, even if she was still as kind and patient as ever. There was a sigh from Hermione, as she gently took the papers from Ron and handed them to Harry.

There was no doubt that she was preparing to leave, but – before she could – he quickly stood up and jumped around to block her way slightly. He wouldn’t take up too much of her time, but he just had a _few_ more questions, especially when no one else would be able to answer them as well as she could. Hermione slid on her cape, whilst Ron stood up to kiss her cheek and wish her well for the day, before he slid back into his seat and continued to finish his drink, before the two men would head back to work. Harry asked her gently:

“So how do Ginny and I prove we’re compatible?”

“That’s under the third decree,” said Hermione. “You’ll get given a test to perform, which should indicate your compatibility. You only get three attempts to pass. If you fail the third time, you’ll get given a list by the ministry of pre-determined matches. It’s a little unclear without the _full_ version – this is rather abridged – but I assume they would have been pre-tested to determine suitability, otherwise you could just fail with them, too.”

“Yeah, that would make a pre-determined list pretty pointless, huh? Does it say what counts as ‘compatible’? Do we just need to match in status, money and reputation . . . we don’t have to sit there and try to convince them we’re in love, do we? I guess we could just take veritaserum to prove that, right? It’s got to be pretty easy.”

“It – it doesn’t say. If you pass, decree four stipulates you must live together and ‘procreate’ within three months . . . there’s even a stipulation on fidelity and that someone will be assigned to you to monitor your ‘progress’. It’s all so subjective!”

“Procreate? So they’re _forcing_ children on people,” said Harry.

“With magic, fertility won’t be an issue,” Hermione replied.

Harry shuddered visibly. It was awful always being in the public eye, perhaps more so than being completely invisible in the muggle world, and he knew that any child of his would be thrust into the media in the same way that he was thrust into it, and he couldn’t abide that thought. It was made worse when – as he looked around at now only adults in the inn – he would miss the best years of his youth, because he _wanted_ a chance to finally learn who he was and enjoy life, but a family would be perfect too, just . . . not _yet_.

“I won’t be _able_ to have a family, if I get assigned a male,” said Harry.

“Nah,” said Ron. “They say males with _super_ high levels of magic can naturally conceive, although there’s more potions and spells than I can count to help with that, so it’s not a problem anyway. You could always use a surrogate, too. It’s not hard.”

“See, this is where I struggle to follow.” Hermione rubbed her temple with a sigh. “Decree five says you have a year to decide whether to remain together as a couple, but – with a child – how many people would opt to separate? It seems a contrived method of _forcing_ two people to remain an item. If you decide to eventually annul, or divorce at the end of your first year together, you essentially forfeit your life to the Ministry. It’s very severe consequences.”

Ron stood up to snatch the papers back from Harry, as all three stood around the small table together, and yet Harry stood in a daze. He realised that – with children – he _wouldn’t_ be able to annul or divorce, because he _knew_ what it was like to grow up without parents . . . he couldn’t do that to his children, even if he _knew_ all that mattered was support and unconditional love, because it wasn’t the same. He wanted his children to have _one_ home, not _two_ , and – oh God – if they stayed together there _would_ be two children, because Hermione said the law in full _stipulated_ two, and –! This was far too much to consider.

“Bloody hell, mate,” said Ron. “You’d even need the Ministry’s permission just to go out!”

“Not to mention live within the Ministry itself,” murmured Hermione. “This – this isn’t good, Harry. It could even mean indefinite imprisonment in Azkaban, if you outright refuse. You need to speak to your contacts at the Ministry, but also talk to Ginny first chance you get.”

“What’s the point? Mum’s never going to agree to Ginny marrying that young.”

“Harry’s a good match,” said Hermione. “Ginny would be lucky.”

“To get knocked up in her last year of school? Sure.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh. He snatched back the papers from Ron, before he shoved them under his arm and let out a hiss of breath. The truth was – as much as he and Ginny loved one another – this was a _massive_ commitment, as well as a _massive_ change in circumstances, and how could he ask Ginny to put her education _and_ Quidditch training on hold, all just to marry and have a child and live with him . . . there was no guarantee she would be able to resume her life where she left off, but neither of them were ready for a child either.

“I’ll – I’ll talk to her,” said Harry.

“Sooner rather than later,” answered Hermione.

“Sure. Look . . . I’m going to head to the Ministry, hopefully get this sorted out. Don’t – don’t tell Ginny, okay? I’ll talk to her, if this doesn’t get fixed, but I want her to hear it from me first, all right? Thanks for listening to me, I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” said Ron. “We’re here for you, mate.”

“Thanks, it really means the world.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, as he watched Hermione pick up her belongings. It was so _awkward_ between them, but he had no way to ease the tension and there was _so much_ to be done, especially when he _needed_ to get this – this – this _stupid_ law revoked! There was no way that they could _honestly_ enforce it or expect it to be enforced, because there were basic human rights to consider . . . even Azkaban was currently being restructured to remove the Dementors, but this law -? _This_ law was too much to revoke? It was then that he felt Hermione’s hand on his arm, which made him jump. He looked to her with confusion.

“Take care, Harry,” said Hermione. “Okay?”

“I will,” replied Harry. “I promise.”

She didn’t seem convinced . . .

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

# Chapter Two

“Ah, Potter, there you are!”

Harry looked across the hall to see McGonagall. The war – like so many others – appeared to age her beyond her years, so that the grey streaks throughout her hair were more prominent than he remembered, and the lines of age made her seem more ‘elderly’ than ‘mature’. There was still a gracefulness and sprightliness to her, just as she exuded a sharp awareness and warm kindness, but there was no denying it . . . the war aged her. The green of her robes matched her eyes rather well, whilst her glasses hung low on her nose.

He smiled weakly and walked over to her, as he tried to hide his frustrations from her. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but simply that everyone appeared . . . well . . . in a sort of _stasis_ , where it was as if the school were frozen in a state of denial, despite sections of the castle still in a dilapidated disarray and many of the students bearing physical scars. The whole building was just one large memory of battle and death, which seemed to permeate the very aura of the place and would likely linger for decades after, and the oppressive air appeared to affect each and every person in turn. He wondered where the cheer and laughter went, especially when the students now seemed so meek and despondent.

It was the _weekend_! This was supposed to be the time when students would fight in the corridors, or sneak out to explore the grounds, or make-out in dark corners . . . they were meant to be _young_ and _live_ , but instead -? The scars on the façade weren’t the only scars. There were students returning that knew they had no home to return to, whilst others would sleep next to empty beds that were once filled with the noise of snoring or whispering, and others would be freshly arrived and hearing awful stories of what the others endured during the war. He was so afraid of running into old teachers, old friends . . .

Everything reminded him of what he lost.

This no longer felt like _home_ to him, but neither did Grimmauld Place. There were memories all around him, ones of loss and ones of pain, and the few guest lectures he gave – always in Defence Against the Dark Arts – always reminded him of what could have been and what no longer was . . . it broke his heart every time. He smiled brightly, despite his pain, and ran a hand over the back of his neck, whilst he walked over to McGonagall with a shuddered breath and tried to be as social as possible. The older woman smiled in turn.

“I trust you’re here to see Ginevra Weasley,” she said.

“Kind of,” replied Harry. “Hermione wanted to see me, too, although I don’t think it’s good news. I also wanted to see a few of the D.A., if they weren’t too busy or anything. Oh, I heard they finally got Snape’s portrait made for your office? I hope it wasn’t a hassle.”

“None at all, but it’s so rare for a portrait to be made of a living person. You should hear the discussions the two have. It’s surreal, to say the least! Still, tradition _is_ tradition and I shan’t object to what was owed. It’s just a shame that – now his name is officially cleared –he decides to hand in his resignation! Well, at least he’ll be seeing out the school year. Professor Slughorn handed in his the second Severus received the all clear from the healers.”

“Well, at least the position isn’t cursed,” said Harry wryly. “I know a few students would disagree, mind, but I bet the Slytherin house won’t be getting as many O’s now Snape’s leaving. Do you think he would mind me stopping by to say hello? I never really got to thank him for what he did . . . I think he still thinks I hate him.”

“He knows that you don’t hate him, Potter,” replied McGonagall. “You fought to clear his name and install a portrait of him, not to mention that you visited him in hospital more than anyone else, but seven years is a very long time . . . prejudices don’t just go overnight.”

“I know, but it’s not as though I’m asking to be his best friend.”

“For the best, I should imagine,” she answered.

McGonagall turned and waved in the direction of one of the staircases, which would lead the way to the new ‘common-common room’. It was still a mystery to Harry what person came up with the name, but the basic premise was rather solid; it was a room in which all students – of any house – could sit and socialise and study. There was something relieving to know that bridges were being built, and that one day there may even cease to be rivalry between the houses . . . a rivalry that only helped the war, when union would have hindered it.

“Severus disagrees with my decision to have you guest lecture,” she said.

“Why? How the hell can he object to _that_? The whole school’s short staffed! There were the teachers that died, the teachers that resigned, the teachers that -!” Harry drew in a deep breath. “I can’t believe he’s going when the school needs him most. It’s so _selfish_!”

“Well, our Severus always was a stickler for rules,” said McGonagall, as she led the way. “I think the war has only increased his desire for heightened security. There is something to be said about only allowing permanent staff and pupils on site. Still, he is not the only one of us changed by the war . . . Miss Granger may not be as outspoken as she once was, but she is certainly _far_ more passionate. I have yet to see her leave the library this week.”

“Yeah? I’ll have a word with her,” said Harry. “She won’t listen, but at least I tried. I’ve had messages from her . . . I think she’s looked in every single law book she can find, but there’s _nothing_ , and it’d take _years_ to get the law changed. I think – I think this is it.”

“It certainly seems to be inspiring her to seek for a career within the Ministry. I know it isn’t much consolation for yourself, but it seems that – in time – no other person will be subjected to such a law. I foresee her changing the preferential treatment of purebloods, as well as the injustices against non-humans. I believe she may revolutionise the Ministry.”

“Too bad that doesn’t help me now,” muttered Harry. “Tough luck, right?”

“For what it is worth,” she said, “I am very sorry, Potter.”

McGonagall stopped outside a large portrait of Dumbledore. It was likely the man in the frame flicked between frames at will, which meant that a password was likely not needed for entry, and he wondered how entry was gained. He turned to look at her, where he saw that she wore a look filled with pain and pity. It – it was somewhat painful to look at it in turn, because he knew how much the teachers strove to do right by their pupils and help them, but she couldn’t help with this . . . she likely felt helpless herself. He lowered his head.

It was difficult to bear her gaze, as he thought about how much potential his teachers saw in him, and the idea that he would _never_ get to live to that potential . . . well, maybe he would, but at what cost? If he didn’t take the time off from training, it would mean Ginny taking the time off from school or _her_ training, and that was _assuming_ she wouldn’t mind . . . he – he couldn’t even call off the relationship to protect her! There was no guarantee anyone ‘allocated’ by the Ministry – in the case they didn’t work out – would _want_ to be placed in that situation, so to force someone else -? McGonagall seemed to sense his hesitance.

“Do stop by before you leave,” she said.

He watched as she walked away, at her usual swift and decisive pace, and he felt grateful that she was able to take time from her schedule to speak to him. It took him a moment longer than he was proud of to realise that he could simply _walk_ through the empty portrait, which was only realised by the crude calling out of a neighbouring portrait, and – as he hesitated just a little – he took a step forward . . . for a moment he was reminded of his time at Platform 9 ¾, which made him smile just slightly. It was slightly disorientating, but soon he was inside a large hall area that was actually rather impressive in its layout.

There were banners from all four houses, with the décor decorated in all four motifs. The portraits – both magical and non-magical – were all of scenes from history, featuring wizards of both houses working together, and the bookcases all around seemed to contain literature solely about non-humans and muggles. It made him wonder whether the desperate attempt to force diversity and acceptance would work, but . . . it _was_ working. He could see Slytherin students studying with Ravenclaw, and Ginny sat with what looked like a Hufflepuff.

“Harry, over here!”

Harry smiled on sight of his girlfriend. There was a time – during his break-up – when he foresaw a future without her, knowing that she was the only person that could match his passion and truly love him, and he felt such horrendous guilt on their break-up, even when it was for _her_ protection. It was true that she might not understand a lot of his past, but they _shared_ so much together and they wanted the same things. It was hard to envision a life without her. He walked over to Ginny and sat opposite in an armchair, whilst the girl next to left with a polite wave, which he returned with a weak smile and a brief nod.

“I don’t remember her,” said Harry quietly.

“Well, she remembers you,” replied Ginny. “I think her name’s Louisa Locket. We were just discussing Quidditch. You should see her on the field, Harry! They tried her out for seeker on the Hufflepuff team, what with her height and frame, and I think we could have a _really_ close match coming up . . . they’ll be competition for sure! I think she’s aiming to work at the Ministry, which makes me tempted to introduce her to Hermione.”

“I feel like I’ve missed out on so much. It was Summerby as seeker when I was captain, but I guess nothing really stays the same anymore . . . I used to think Hogwarts would always be my home, but now I’m getting back-talk from some first-year called Digby between running errands at the Ministry. It’s just so _weird_ , you know? I feel like something’s missing.”

“You mean like Dumbledore or Fred? I keep looking around and expecting them to be there, but they’re _not_ . . . we lost so many people during the war. I keep seeing people smiling in the corridors, but sometimes I think it’s just so that they keep from crying.”

“Yeah, about that . . . can – can we talk, Ginny? It’s important.”

“Sure, go ahead,” said Ginny kindly.

He looked around and saw the girl from before talking to a boy in the corner, although he was certain that the boy was Slytherin, and – as polite and happy as they seemed – it felt _weird_ to see the two houses actually _friends_ with one another. It – it wasn’t that he felt averse to being civil with those like Slytherin, but he remembered how they were the first to run during the heat of battle . . . sure, Slughorn _ordered_ them to run, and sure _many_ returned, despite _knowing_ they would be battling friends and family to the death, but -! McGonagall was right; old prejudices were hard to eradicate overnight, but _slowly_ they would change.

“Do you think things will get better?” Harry asked.

“They already have,” replied Ginny. “Look around! This would have _never_ been possible before, but you did this . . . no . . . _we_ did this. We all sacrificed so much! There isn’t a wizarding family alive that didn’t lose at least one member. I don’t want to believe that was all in vain . . . I _can’t_ believe that. The Holyhead Harpies offered me a place for when I graduate, and I keep thinking of Fred would –”

The way she cut herself off said it all. There was an expression of pain in her brown eyes, even as she smiled and reached out to take his hand in hers, and he realised that – in the next eight months given to him to decide – there was a _lot_ to talk about, especially when being pregnant would lose her a place on the team, maybe forever if they found a better player. It was her _dream_ to play Quidditch, just as it was his dream to be an auror, and they both _so much_ wanted to support one another, so to ask either one to give up their aspirations -? He grasped her hand and held it tight. It was nice to feel her physically with him.

“This law is _so_ unjust,” snapped Ginny. “I’ve sent letter after letter to the Ministry, but the _best_ I received was a notice saying that they were looking into having it changed! What bloody good does that do _now_? I’m going to fight it every step of the way, Dad and Percy will do all they can, too, and Hermione has spent so long in the library -! I don’t think I’ve even _seen_ her in these past few weeks! Have they said anything to you? Will they repeal it?”

“Apparently ‘the law is the law’,” muttered Harry. “I spoke to Kingsley, but – like you said – he said it can take _years_ to repeal a law like that, especially when the Ministry has so much to do and a _huge_ amount to ‘prioritise’. I got the whole list; capturing the Death Eaters on the run, trials for those they’ve caught, making those like the Malfoy family pay restitution, repairing the damage done, memorialising the dead . . . that was just the so-called important stuff! I asked why they couldn’t just _ignore_ the law, but apparently there are too many pureblood families supporting it, so they’d have to go about it legally and repeal it. It’s so -!”

Ginny squeezed his hand tighter and gave him a look of sadness. It was enough to make him look away, as he couldn’t bear to see her look so despondent, but – when he looked – he caught sight of the Louisa girl with the Slytherin boy and a Ravenclaw named something like Peter or Paul or Perry . . . he forgot the name, but he recognised the documents the boy held, which meant he really _wasn’t_ the only one to get this ridiculous set of decrees. There wasn’t much comfort in knowing that he wasn’t alone, only anger that the injustice was spread.

He felt Ginny squeeze again and looked at her over the rim of his glasses, because the fact was they _loved_ one another, even going so far as to stick with one another through the break-up and the war and the deaths that followed . . . it _changed_ them, but through it they only grew closer. It made him smile to look at her, but he felt something almost like the rage he felt when Sirius died . . . he felt like he was being wrenched from the one person that represented love and hope in his life, like he was watching their relationship fall apart in slow-motion, and he felt so _helpless_ to stop it. He wanted to scream, but no sound would come out and this wasn’t the place. He just wanted to have a _choice_.

“If we pass the test,” said Ginny, “can we postpone the marriage?”

“Only until the sixteenth of August,” he replied. “That’s the deadline.”

“That’s -! Well, at least I’ll be finished with school, but that’s still so soon! I doubt the Harpies would keep a position open for an entire year, but even if they did . . . do we _really_ want to get married this soon? Do we really want _kids_ this soon? We’re still . . .”

“Getting to know one another? Yeah. Yeah, I know. I’m just _scared_ , okay? I’m scared because the _stupid_ contract demands fidelity, so we can’t even take a break or get back together later on, because _this is it_. We both get married and have kids or we _break up_. It’s so – it’s so messed up! If – if we could just _wait_ . . . who’s to say we wouldn’t be soul-mates or have a happy family or careers we both enjoy? This feels like such an ultimatum.”

“It _is_ an ultimatum, Harry,” said Ginny. “I don’t think I can agree to it . . . I _want_ to; God, how I want to! It’s just far too soon! We’ve both lost so much. I’m still grieving, Harry; I keep waking up in the night with bad dreams, but I keep thinking about how I’ll _never_ see my brother again, and I -! I want to _live_ my life, because he _can’t_ live his. I owe it to him. I owe it to everyone that died so that we could live. I want to spend a few years finding myself, doing the things I love, maybe settle down later on . . . three kids, a nice house . . .”

“I want those _exact_ same things, Ginny, but I _can’t_ postpone this. If I refuse outright, I’ll end up in Azkaban, but I -! I can’t ask you to give up your life for me, but how can I commit to another witch when I _know_ that I love you . . . how can I ask them to be second-best to you? We – we could get married on the deadline, then it’d just be a year to wait until –”

“Until what? We’d be expected to conceive in the first three months, and we’d probably be expected to have a second child in the following few years, which means it’d be _at least_ five years before I could get back into Quidditch . . . no one would take me so out of practise.”

“Yeah . . . I don’t think I could give up auror training either . . .”

“It was your dream to be an auror, but this was mine.”

Harry looked up to see the sadness in her eyes. They always assumed that – after the war – they would be free to be together, with nothing to come between them, and things were going so well . . . they had her family’s support, both careers to go into that they passionately loved, and both wanted the same things . . . it felt like those same things were tearing them apart. He couldn’t give up being an auror, just as she couldn’t give up being a professional player, and – whilst both _would_ give it up, if they had to – _neither_ would allow the other to make that sacrifice. They wanted each other to be happy too much to agree to this law.

“We have eight months, Ginny,” he said sadly.

He hoped that maybe some other solution would present itself, but there were so little options presenting themselves, and – as he looked around – even the room itself couldn’t provide any distraction from the conversation at hand. The emptiness he felt was so consuming, as he sensed the inevitable coming, and he looked instead to the fireplace and found himself reminded of stolen conversations with Sirius, which made him wonder what his godfather would have suggested. It was all so frustrating, and he never felt more alone.

“I know,” she said. “It’s better for us to decide earlier than later.”

“Yeah, I guess it gives us more time to prepare for whatever tests they’ll make us go through,” he muttered, as he ran a hand over his head. “If we fail, we would still have time to try the two retakes, too. I guess it’s better to get it over with, right?”

“That’s not what I mean.” Ginny paused to squeeze his hand with a sigh. “Hermione told me – when I first fell for you – to just be myself and to date other people, and I found that I could actually _be_ happy with other people . . . it wasn’t the same as it was with you, I guess I was more ‘content’ than ‘happy’, actually, but it was far from miserable. I think you could feel that same way, too, even if we mourn our relationship and always love one another, I think it’s possible we could be – if not happy, then – content elsewhere.

“I just worry what will happen, if we stay together for the whole of these eight months. I don’t want you to give up being an auror, but you don’t want me to give up being a professional player, and we’ll _always_ love one another, but we may _never_ get these chances in life again. I don’t want us to lead each other on, maybe even get more serious, only to have it all ripped from us at the last minute, because it’ll make it _so_ much harder.”

It was then that he saw Ginny’s eyes begin to water, but he forced himself to smile despite the tears that he felt in turn, especially when he _knew_ that was she was saying was right, even if it felt so wrong. The common room felt so much more oppressive suddenly, as he felt the eyes of a few nearby students _watching_ them, and he knew that – even in moments like these – he wouldn’t escape the public eye, just as he knew whomever he married would be forced into the public eye in turn. Ginny didn’t mind that, but someone else might.

“I don’t want anyone else _but_ you, Ginny,” he said.

“I feel the same way, but what if we decide not to take the tests?” Ginny pleaded. “What if I _fail_ the tests? It could have been time that we spent emotionally preparing for the inevitable, getting used to being just friends . . . you finding someone else to love . . .”

“Yeah, but it could also be _us_ making the most of the time we have.”

“The only time we have together, right?”

He saw the sadness in her expression, as she pushed back a lock of hair. It was clear that she was trying to be strong, just as he felt an intense guilt that he could do this to her now, especially when there was a big match coming up and her courses were harder than ever, and that wasn’t even to mention the emotional hardship of being in the very building in which her brother died. He felt their hands fall apart. It was hard to say who let go first, but maybe it didn’t matter . . . maybe what mattered was just being together in the moment.

She looked slightly pale, although it was probably natural when this was such an awful situation, and he wanted to hold her and reassure her, but there was no way _to_ reassure her when everything was so messed up! He felt a slight stab where his scar was located, but – despite _knowing_ it to be a phantom pain – he reached up to trace the shape of it regardless, as it reminded him of the same wand movement used in the spell that killed his parents, and he _hated_ that this was his only connection to them. It was hard not to wonder what they would have thought of this, just as he wondered whether he would have siblings, and if he _had_ siblings then he wouldn’t qualify for the law. They would have been able to stay together.

“How long do you need to think about it?” Harry asked.

“I’ll be home for Easter,” she answered. “Why don’t you come to the Burrow? You can see the family and we can catch up, and I . . . I can give you an answer. If we go through with it, we’ll still have plenty of time to take the tests. Let’s both think about it?”

“Yeah. Yeah! You’re right, of course. We both should think a while.”

“Are you okay, Harry? Do you want to go somewhere private?”

“No, I’m fine. Honestly. I’ll see you later?”

Ginny didn’t appear convinced, but he felt as if the main person he needed to convince was himself. He stood up and felt awkward, unsure whether a hug or kiss would be appropriate under the circumstances, but he didn’t want to be so forward when there was every chance of a break-up, because she was right . . . pretending that everything was fine would only lead to more heartbreak in the long-run. It was lucky that Ginny saw in him the uncertainty, and – confident as ever – she took him in a warm embrace.

They held each other for a long moment, as he buried his head against her neck and tried to memorise the scent of her perfume, and he realised just how much he would miss her touch, as just being close to her reassured him and made him feel safe. He heard someone giggle from afar, just as he was sure that he heard Luna speak from somewhere nearby, and he hated the small distractions as much as he hated that this was likely coming to an end, because these few moments were all they had left. They were precious and something he never wanted to forget, because he knew – like with Sirius and so many others – every moment was something fleeting and one that may never come back again.

He let her go gently. It was hard to _completely_ let go, which was made clear by how his hands lingered on her upper arms, and she reached across to place a soft kiss to his lips, which made a few of the younger years cheer immaturely and Harry blush. It was then that they finally parted with a sigh, as he felt his eyes well over and saw how flushed Ginny looked, and he wondered whether he could find somewhere to compose himself, because he didn’t want to face McGonagall looking so upset. He stepped back and looked around, where found fewer eyes on him than he anticipated. It was time to leave.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

Harry gave her one last and long look, before he walked slowly out of the room. It was a long walk, especially when he mulled over what Ginny said over and over, and the idea of losing her felt unbearable. He prayed that he wouldn’t run into Snape on the way down, although he heard that the older man never left his dungeons these days except to teach or patrol, as the idea of being mocked right at that moment -! He expected Ginny to agree, because he couldn’t imagine a life without her, but her answer -!

It wasn’t the answer he hoped . . .

 

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

# Chapter Three

_April 4 th, 1999 . . . _

It was hard to believe that there was just four months until the deadline. The last three months appeared to have gone by in a heartbeat, as he dedicated his life to training and to acting as a guest lecturer, and every spare moment – free from duties – was spent with Ginny. It still felt so _unreal_ ; the closer that the deadline came, the more and more disassociated he felt, until he could almost fool himself into believing that it was something happening to someone else. There was still that fear . . . never leaving, never lessening . . . that _this was it_.

He looked at Teddy in his arms and smiled, as he bounced the one-year old a few times on his lap, before he saw his godson smile and giggle and reach out with the repeated sound: ‘Ha, Ha, Ha’. This – _this very moment_ – was something that he would cherish forever. Teddy symbolised everything that they fought to obtain: hope, love, and a _future_. He could see in his godson the small and subtle traits of both parents, who died to protect him and make sure that his life would be a good one, and he could see just how the young boy was truly becoming a unique and special person, too, and he just wanted to hold him forever and never let go.

“You’re one of the few good things to come out of the war,” said Harry.

Teddy tried to stand and fell onto his buttocks, where he then took to making grabbing motions towards Harry’s glasses, which made Harry laugh and pull away just slightly. The pout across the boy’s features made him laugh, especially when he saw how Teddy’s hair turned red for a moment and his eyes turned a strange shade of blue, and he couldn’t resist bending down to place a kiss on his head. It was then that Teddy made a quick grab for his glasses and caught them, before he tried to use them as a teething ring.

“You have good reflexes for your age,” he continued.

He pulled the glasses away from the boy, before he could hurt himself seriously, and he was forced to bite his lip to stop from laughing, as the last thing he expected was for Teddy to puff out his cheeks and hit him on the hand with a loud ‘no’. It was difficult to reason with a toddler, but he felt his eyes well up with sheer love at how playful and social Teddy could be, which made him wonder whether he was the same at this age. Did his parents laugh at him and his ways? Did his mother bounce him on his lap like this? He wanted to do the same with his children in the future, watch them play with Teddy and see them raised together, but unless he found a way out of this law . . . that distant future could be _now_.

“I guess this is our last Easter alone . . .”

“Why would you be alone?” Ron’s voice chirped from afar. “You make it sound like you don’t have any friends or family! Besides, you know you’re welcome here every year! I’d be offended if you _didn’t_ come here again next year! It’s all good, isn’t it?”

“That – that isn’t what I meant, Ron,” he replied curtly. “Where have you been anyway?”

“Gnomes are back. Bugger to get rid of! Been out there all day!”

“Avoiding all the preparations for dinner then?”

Ron gave him a cold look, as if he wanted to give him the two-fingers, but – with his mother fussing about by the stove – he was probably too afraid to get into trouble, because Mrs Weasley was a terrifying force no matter what their age. He watched as Ron slid into a chair opposite him at the kitchen table, whilst Mrs Weasley shot them a look over her shoulder and made a noise of disapproval, but Harry only continued to play with Teddy. The Burrow still felt like home, after all this time, and Ron was right . . . he was always welcome there.

“No one’s going to be here until later anyway,” muttered Ron.

“That doesn’t mean there isn’t work to be done,” shot Mrs Weasley. “You let your father deal with the gnomes! Ginny and Hermione are busy decorating, Harry is looking after Teddy, and I’m cooking a meal for the entire family! I won’t have you sitting around doing nothing!”

“I’m not doing nothing. I’m just catching my breath! That was hard work out there.”

“Then you can catch your breath whilst doing something useful. _Here_.”

Mrs Weasley came over to the table and dropped upon it a stack of envelopes. It was enough to grab Teddy’s attention, as – in his childish dress-robes – he clambered and struggled to turn around, where he tried to climb upon the table and get to them. They probably just seemed like a good opportunity to scribble to an active toddler, but they seemed important to Harry’s eyes, and even the quill dropped on top of them looked expensive, or – well – at least expensive relative to what the family could afford to spend. It was likely an heirloom of sorts, but certainly not self-inking judging by the small bottle plopped next to it.

“What’s this?” Ron asked.

“Minerva, Andromeda and Severus can’t make it,” explained Mrs Weasley. “You can write them all a letter to tell them how much we’ll miss them. Well, can’t say I’m all that surprised they’re unavailable, but without much family between them . . . still, we’ll have enough people here as it is, so I can’t complain about a little less work. I’m going to finish setting up the table outside, but _make sure you finish those letters_! No sarcasm, either, Ronald!”

Mrs Weasley turned quickly, as she wiped her hands upon her apron, but it was at that moment that Ronald mimed her words rather sarcastically, which caused her to turn and slap him on the outside of his head. He made to complain, but she merely raised a hand and pointed to him rather warningly, before quickly turning the paper on the table the right way around, and pointed at the envelopes. In a matter of seconds, she was gone. Harry lost count of how many of the Weasley family would be attending, as well as members of the Order and old friends, but clearly there was to be a _lot_ of work done in preparation of their arrival.

He drew in a deep breath and looked to Teddy. It was strange to think that almost an entire year had passed since the war, as well as that Remus and Tonks would never get to see their son grow up, and he wondered whether they knew what they sacrificed. It was such a huge commitment to have a child, so that – even now they were adults – Mrs Weasley held a massive responsibility over her children, as if they were no older than Teddy in some respects, and maybe children were _always_ babies to their parents eyes.

They sat in silence for a few moments, as Harry listened to the background noise. He could hear Mr Weasley in the garden, just as he could hear Ginny and Hermione talking in the living room, and he heard – more than anything – the sound of his thoughts _screaming_ at him about how the law was so – so – so _inhumane_! It was such a huge commitment to have a child, but they just weren’t ready for it . . . how could they bring a child into a life like that? The worst part was that – if Ginny said no – he didn’t know _whom_ he would raise them with.

“So, what was that about being alone?” Ronald asked.

“I was just thinking about the law,” answered Harry. “We’re still no closer to finding an out, but if we _don’t_ find a solution . . . this time next year . . . I could have a _child_ , Ron. I can’t even begin to think about what that would mean! I _need_ to get out of this!”

“Just don’t do a runner, okay, mate? They probably have a trace on you.”

“That charm isn’t applied to adults, Ronald,” came Hermione’s voice.

“So he _could_ do a runner then?”

Hermione gave a sigh, as she stepped into the kitchen. It made Harry smile to see her, especially as she looked exceptionally nice today, which included the use of potions to straighten her hair and a touch of make-up upon her face, and – likely – she was striving to look good for Ron’s sake. The summer dress that she wore suited her well, but he barely had time to notice when Ginny stepped beside her. It made his face fall, because he could _see_ the pain and guilt on her face, so he knew what was coming all too well . . .

He wanted to get up and greet Ginny, to even hold her and kiss her, but it felt far too personal when he knew that only bad news would come from it, so he used every ounce of strength he could muster to stay within his seat. Teddy fussed and whined, as he no longer felt the centre of attention, and so – as Harry looked down briefly to him – the two women took their seats at the table. Hermione sat opposite Ron, next to Harry, whilst Ginny came around the other side of Harry and sat at the head of the table, although she paused midway behind her brother to criticise his letter for being too sarcastic. It was when she sat next to Harry that she took his hand in hers, which was a great relief. He squeezed and gave her a shy look.

“He _can’t_ run, Ron,” said Hermione.

“Well, why not? It’s not as though they can keep him here.”

“No, but . . .” Hermione gave a sigh and shook her head. “He would effectively be _exiled_ , Ron. They would arrest him the _moment_ they found him back within the country, which isn’t to mention that most countries have extradition laws allowing our Aurors to collect him by force and bring him to Azkaban. Can you imagine what it would be like to live on the run? I don’t think I could live never seeing my family again, to be so alone . . .”

“You sent your parents to Australia! They were gone the whole year!”

“Yes, but I _knew_ I would see them again. Harry would _never_ get to see any of us, not to mention it wouldn’t be much of a life to hide his identity, and – being so famous – he would have to change even his _face_. He would have to hide _completely_. That’s enough to drive even the strongest of people into an identity crisis, it’s just not feasible, Ronald.”

“I don’t want to run,” said Harry. “I couldn’t take Ginny with me, not when she would be forced to live on the run . . . give up her dreams . . . never see her family again. It – it would be the _exact_ same problem as now! I’d have to choose between Ginny and my freedom, only by _running_ I’d just have the burden of secrecy and the constant fear of being caught and -! It wouldn’t be _right_. Plus, I never had family growing up . . . I never thought I would have one either, but you guys . . . I _know_ what it’s like now and I don’t want to give you all up.”

He held tight to Ginny’s hand, as he looked down at Teddy on his lap. The young boy now faced the table, where he played quietly with some toys before him, and Harry could only think about how this was not how he envisioned his immediate future. It was one thing to be a godfather, which was a role he cherished above all else, but custody was effectively shared with Andromeda and the responsibility of a life wasn’t his alone, and he _knew_ it wouldn’t be the same with a child of his own. He would be the sole guardian . . . the sole parent . . . it was such a huge responsibility, especially when he wanted so much to become an auror . . .

“So you’re going to stay here, then?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, I am,” said Harry. “I can _fight_ it from here, too. I won’t take this sitting down. Even if it doesn’t help me, it might help get the law changed and help people in a few years time, and that’s still something, isn’t it? I have to do something about this, Ron! I just do!”

“What about you and Ginny? You guys going to try and pass the test?”

“About that . . . I – I don’t know, Ron.”

The squeeze from Ginny’s hand nearly broke him. He looked away from Teddy to give her a subtle glance, but he could see the pain on her expression as clearly as the one he wore himself, and he felt an intense stab of guilt. There was a smile on her face, but it was clearly forced. He could see how her eyes barely held back tears, just as how she refused to let go of his hand and how her touch lingered, and it was as if she were reaching out to him without words, as if she wanted to remain with him forever. He felt the exact same way. He _loved_ Ginny, but he also loved her too much to let her throw her life away for him.

They did nothing but talk about their decision for the past few weeks, even as neither one dared say it aloud in explicit terms, and the idea of marrying someone else . . . having children with them . . . it felt like _such_ a betrayal. He felt unfaithful. It was possible she was right, that maybe they could be content with other people, but what if – years from now – they still stole glances across a table and felt a strong sense of nostalgia, of desire, of _love_? It would be cruel to be in a relationship with someone else, _knowing_ they were second choice.

“What? You’re _breaking up_?” Ron asked.

Ginny finally let go of his hand. The sudden absence of her touch made his skin feel cold, as he longed for her touch to return, and – to distract himself from such a loss – he brought his hand up to rest on the other side of Teddy’s waist. He watched as the boy chewed and teethed on a small toy, and he smiled sadly to himself, even as he felt Ginny’s eyes upon him and sensed the awkwardness between them. It felt as if a shadow had fallen upon them, with so much unspoken, and neither dared speak out of fear of tears. It wasn’t an easy decision by far.

“We don’t want to, Ron, but –”

“Bollocks, mate!” Ron smacked the table hard. “You two haven’t even given it a shot! You get three goes at passing the test, but you won’t even give it one? Look, I _really_ hate to say it, but you’re kind of perfect together! Why would you want to marry a stranger over Ginny?”

“Ron, you _don’t_ get to dictate my life,” snapped Ginny. “Don’t talk to Harry as if _he’s_ the only affected by this, as if I’m just automatically going to say ‘yes’ as it’s expected of me, because I _will_ cast a Bat-Bogey Hex on you! Harry and I have talked about this for _months_ , but the ultimate decision wasn’t just _his_ to make. I _can’t_ do this, Ron. I don’t want to forfeit a career in Quidditch or make Harry forfeit his career instead, just as I don’t want to marry out of obligation rather than love, and you -! You have _no_ idea how painful this is, so _shut up_!”

“Oh, _please_! You’ve had a crush on Harry since you first flipping met him! You spent years making him jealous and trying to impress him, but now _suddenly_ it’s not worth the trouble and effort to be together? You said you guys are in love! How can you be in love and _not_ want to get married? You’re legal! You’re seventeen! You’d rather throw _everything_ away just so you can play Quidditch for a few seasons? You need to grow up!”

“How about there’s more to a relationship than just love? How about the fact that _this isn’t just about marriage_ , but bringing a _child_ into the world? How about the fact that one of us would have to give up a _lifelong dream_? I’m just seventeen! I don’t feel capable raising a child right now! Harry’s child deserves more than a mother that’s not ready to be a parent!”

“Okay, well, yeah, but -!”

“No, _no buts_!”

Ginny jumped upright. The sudden movement, along with the harsh scrape of her chair upon the tiles, made Teddy burst into a crying howl. It was a sound that ripped through Harry’s heart and made him feel helpless, as the _worst_ thing after the war was always the sound of his godson in distress, and – at once – he lifted the boy up and pulled him into a large embrace, as he wrapped his arms tightly around Teddy and bounced him just slightly. He buried his head in the crook of Teddy’s neck and tried to block out the sounds of the crying, even as – in his peripheral vision – he caught a glimpse of Ginny’s hands locked into tight fists.

“I’m going to help Mum outside,” said Ginny.

It was difficult to watch her walk away, because – even as they swore to remain friends – he felt a longing to whisk her into his arms and hold her tightly, and every time she walked away there came the cold realisation that _this was it_. He wouldn’t be the one to whisper that it would be okay, just as he wouldn’t be the one to hold her when she cried, ad he wouldn’t be the one that she turned to with her deepest secrets. He held tighter upon Teddy and scrunched his eyes shut for a long moment, until he heard a door slam shut.

“Oh, Ronald!” Hermione snapped.

“What did I do? I was only asking a question!”

Hermione merely rolled her eyes, before she stood up and nodded politely to Harry, and then followed Ginny to comfort her and make sure that she was well. The sense of emptiness that Harry felt was hard to endure, although he felt a spark of gratitude that at least – with Hermione following – Ginny wouldn’t be alone and would have someone by her that understood, and he wished for that same sense of peace. He wanted someone with him that _understood_ , but – as much as he loved Ron – he doubted his friend would ever fully get it.

He patted Teddy on his back, as the boy began to settle and seemingly fall asleep, and he felt reluctant to speak lest the vibrations from his chest disturb Teddy at all, but then – as he thought ahead to his future – he wondered whether _this_ would be his future. It was impossible to know who would be on the list provided by the Ministry, which meant that he might end up paired with someone that wouldn’t want to give up a career to be with their child, and Harry -? Well, he grew up _without a family_ , so that every day he _dreamed_ of just having the moments that most kids took for granted, and the idea of both of them working just felt – well – not quite right. Oh God, would he have to give up his career for this?

“Bollocks,” snapped Ron. “I smudged Andromeda’s letter.”

“Ron, this wasn’t my first choice,” said Harry, as Ron continued to write. “If Ginny were to marry me, she’d end up pregnant and with a child, which means _at least_ nine months off from training and it’s possible the job won’t be waiting for her afterwards. She’s not ready to have a child, either, and it’s not right to _expect_ her to be ready, not when she has a _choice_ here! I – I don’t know who I’ll get to choose from, but I -! I can’t do that to Ginny. I just _can’t_.”

“I get it, mate, honestly, but it’s just -! You could make it _work_ , you know? I mean . . . it’s a shame to throw such a good relationship away for nothing! Do you really want some stranger on a list over Ginny? A couple years isn’t much! You could get married, have a kid or two, then get back into training and education and whatever else! Just think about it, alright?”

“I _have_ thought about it! I’ve thought about nothing else! I’m not going to do that to Ginny, Ron. I love her too much! I _have_ to get married, I _have_ to have a kid, but _she_ doesn’t! I’m not going to let her rush into something so life changing . . . she deserves better.”

“She deserves to be with the guy she loves! She deserves to be happy!”

“Yeah, well, she _can’t_ be happy with me, can she?”

Ron rolled his eyes, which forced Harry to bite his lip to keep calm. He _knew_ that Ron only wanted what was best for them, because he was a good man and a good friend, but this was something that only Harry and Ginny could resolve, especially when it was a decision that would dictate their entire futures. They knew that any doubt would lead to regrets, as well as the inevitable question of ‘what if’, and he couldn’t put Ginny through that, not least because he loved her so much. Harry looked sadly at Teddy, as the boy slept against him.

“Isn’t that up to her to decide?” Ron asked.

“Yes, it is,” said Harry coldly. “She _decided_ already. There isn’t a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ choice to make, Ron. There’s only what’s right and wrong for _us_ , and what’s right for us . . . I don’t know. I don’t know whether this is _right_ as such, but I _do_ know that it’s wrong.”

“Still, come on, mate! You guys have about five months left, right? You should be making most of the time you have left, or fighting the Ministry like Dad’s trying to do, or running away to be with the woman you love, or – or something! This whole law is pretty messed up; I don’t think it’s been used for _centuries_ , but then the population’s never been lower, so -! I can see why they’d re-enact it, but it’s still wrong! You got to fight it, Harry!”

“I _can’t_ fight it, Ron! I’ve tried! We all have! The only thing that’s left is to ask the Ministry to send me the list so I have longer to decide, rather than a week after the deadline or whatever the time frame is they set. Ginny and I will _still_ be friends, but today -! It looks like this is it. If we date until the deadline, it’ll only hurt us more in the long-run.”

“I don’t know,” said Ron quietly. “If someone told me to dump Hermione, I’d probably want to spend every single second with her . . . well, _after_ I punched them in the face. I just don’t get how you can _leave_ someone that you love, that’s all!”

“Because I love her too much to see her suffer.”

Harry looked to Ron and saw that his friend looked confused, but he couldn’t blame him in the slightest, because it felt that they had different views on what love meant. It was the same as when Harry was forced to break up with Ginny during the war, because love – to Harry – needed to be _selfless_ , which meant putting his partner _first_ , and when he considered the harm that this could cause her in the long run . . . there was no question about what to do. It was hard to see the scepticism on Ron’s face, but what mattered was Ginny and no one else.

“I’d rather see her happy without me,” said Harry, “than sad with me.”

“Well, you’re more selfless than I am,” muttered Ron.

He gave a sad laugh, which disturbed Teddy slightly. The small boy whined and hit Harry lightly on his shoulder, which only made him laugh more, but he managed to stifle the sound and the movement, so that Teddy could nuzzle up and sleep again. He heard Arthur Weasley cheer in the distance, just as he heard the ‘pop’ of an apparition and realised that the first of their guests were arriving, and he hoped that his godson would cope with the excitement.

“So who do you think will be on the list?” Ron asked.

“I – I don’t know, Ron. I just can’t believe they would narrow it down to _three_ people! How do they expect me to go through with this? There are days where I _am_ tempted to run, but Hermione is right . . . it’s not a life to live. Hey, at least I won’t get Draco, right?”

“I don’t know; I would _love_ to see the look on Old Malfoy’s face when he figures out the ferret is marrying you! Still, you know I hear Astoria is pretty pro-muggle? It’s causing tensions already in the household. I would _hate_ to be in the room when that all goes down, but I’d love to be a fly on the wall! Can you imagine that? It’d be like you dating a Death Eater or something! Imagine if one of them gets on the list!”

“Ron, I -!” Harry paused to squeeze Teddy closer. “I _really_ can’t have this conversation right now, okay? I’ll tell you about the list the _second_ I get it, but right now . . . I just want to pretend that everything is normal. Just let me have today, okay? Anyway, how are you getting on with those letters? Managed to write Snape’s without sarcasm?”

“I don’t know. How does this sound?” Ron cleared his throat and then said: “Dear Professor Snape, this day really won’t be the same without you, but we’re sure you’ll be just as happy on your own as we’ll be. Happy Easter. Best regards to you, the Weasley Family.”

“That’s it?” Harry rolled his eyes. “You wrote an entire page for Andromeda.”

“Yeah, well, I _like_ Andromeda, don’t I?”

Harry rolled his eyes, before he carefully stood up and walked over to Ron, and – with a careful and awkward movement – he slid Teddy into Ron’s unsuspecting arms, which caused the young boy to whine and jostle with the change of position. Luckily, Teddy fell asleep rather quickly, even as Ron looked somewhat horrified at holding a child and frightened of dropping him. It was almost amusing to see his friend looking so tense, but it would only be for a few moments. Harry ripped up the current letter and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper.

“Give it here,” he said. “I’ll write Snape’s.”

“Thanks, mate, I owe you one!”

They stayed silent for a while, as Harry sat down and wrote line after line to Snape, although he occasionally glanced up to check on Teddy, who – thankfully – seemed quite content in Ron’s arms and seemed quite peaceful. He became rather lost in thought, as the act of writing to someone like Snape felt rather cathartic, and it enabled him to process some of his more complex emotions, and it was for that reason he found himself surprised when Ron spoke. The words snapped him out of his trance and came kindly:

“Happy Easter, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a smile. “You, too.”


	4. Chapter Four

# Chapter Four

The classroom was oddly quiet . . .

It always felt strange to Harry to be back in Classroom 3C, especially when McGonagall asked him on several occasions whether he would like to assume a full-time position as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but there were so many feelings surrounding the teaching job that made a full-time position impossible. He heard about the Carrows torture, just as he remembered how the position was previously jinxed, and he even remembered the trouble after trouble of the previous teachers. Still, he _loved_ the subject, no matter what.

He would gladly admit that he wasn’t ready to teach full time, not least when he still so passionately strived to become an auror, but there was something wonderful about acting as a guest lecturer several times a week. It was easier to push aside the bad memories, when he only spent a few hours each week in the old classroom. He could instead remember the lessons he and his friends once learned, as well as create new memories with a new set of students, and – when the current DADA teacher was away – it meant that he held the classroom and office to himself, which was handy to say the least. He looked down at the list on his shared desk with a sense of despondency, until the words began to jumble.

“Harry, are you okay?”

He looked up to see Hermione in the doorway. The classroom seemed much more alive in her presence, which made him smile despite himself and give a sad nod. Ron appeared a second later, seemingly out of breath, but – unlike his girlfriend in her school robes – was dressed in the training robes allocated by the auror office. In a strange moment, he almost forgot that he invited them both to the classroom on their lunch breaks, and he found himself blushing a bright red in embarrassment, before he shook his head and waved them over. The iron chandelier overhead moved slightly in a breeze, as the door closing created a draught, and the many models of various magical creatures swayed almost in unison.

They came and sat opposite him, which made him feel a little self-conscious. They were – after all – equals and best friends, but the desk between them created an artificial barrier and made him feel more like their teacher than their friend. He glanced down out of a desire to look somewhere else, but his eyes caught sight of the list and he felt an immense sense of despair and futility, which only caused him to wince and look back, where he saw nothing but their concern and curiosity. Eventually, he managed to say quietly:

“They finally sent the list.”

Ron looked somewhat shocked, as he blinked rapidly and looked to the paper before Harry, although he couldn’t see what was written upon it from where he sat, whilst Hermione looked sadly downwards and seemed almost as resigned as Harry felt. The silence that fell was made all the more awkward for the company he found himself, as – on his own – he could distract himself with the sounds of the students in the corridor or his own thoughts, but now he could only hear their breathing and sighs. It made him worry what they felt or thought.

“Well, who’s on it?” Ron asked.

“That’s the thing,” said Harry. “They’re all Slytherin.”

“That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Harry,” replied Hermione. “There are some wonderful Slytherin witches and wizards, although I admit that it may be a rather long time before their reputation recovers . . . if they could be said to have ever had a good reputation _to_ recover.”

“Yeah, I guess. The first one on the list was Tracey Davis. I didn’t know much about her, except that she’s a half-blood, but Decree One of the law says that I could meet her, so I thought about it and I met her. It was all right, you know? She’s hardly Ginny, but then no one will be like Ginny except Ginny. I can’t deny that she was somewhat pretty, plus she seemed smart enough, and she has no ties to any of the Death Eaters . . .”

“That sounds almost perfect! I vaguely remember her from our time in school together, but unfortunately she decided against repeating her seventh year. I think I remember one of the other Slytherin girls mentioning that she was looking to get a job in Mr Weasley’s department, as she’s supposedly very interested in muggles.”

“Oh yeah, she’s definitely interested in muggles, alright.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Harry gave a sad smile, as he felt a strange sense of amusement at his situation. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a low sigh, whilst he looked down at the sheet of parchment in front of him. There was a sense of finality about his situation, as he looked down at the words physically upon the page, and finally this felt _real_. A brief touch upon the parchment made his fingertip feel cold, which sent a shiver through his body. The name of ‘Tracey Davis’ held a long black line through it. It was a shame, as she would have been great.

“It turns out that she’s on the list, because she was too afraid to tell anyone that she’s already _in_ a really serious relationship,” he said. “She’s engaged to a muggle named Pradeep, but her parents are _really_ against her being with a non-Wizard, although I don’t know why when she’s supposedly a half-blood herself. Anyway, they’re planning to elope when next year, so what can I do? I can’t break apart two people in love.”

“Well, that’s very noble of you, Harry,” said Hermione kindly. “That still leaves two people on the list, which is hopefully enough to make an informed decision. Do we know the others? Do you think that they’re people with which you could be happily married?”

“Oh, I really, _really_ doubt it,” he muttered.

There was a long moment of silence between them. He looked down at the two names not currently crossed out, as he felt a strong sense of injustice fall upon him, because there was simply _no way_ that he could be expected to marry such people. A petty part of him _hated_ Tracey for not telling someone about her secret engagement, because maybe then _someone else_ would have been on the list, someone more appropriate that he _could_ have married, but instead -! He shook his head and spun the paper around and shoved it forward.

“It’s Snape and Blaise,” he snapped.

They gave him a look of complete disbelief. It was enough to make him flinch and hunch his shoulders, as he felt an intense wave of shame and fear about their reaction, but Ron merely shook his head with a smile – as if he believed it no more than a joke – and Hermione simply pulled the paper across the table to look at it closer. The names didn’t change as she glanced it over, but why would they? _This was it_. This was the set of options given to him, with no means of escape or any alternatives, and he was _trapped_. Nothing would change that.

It was a moment later that Ronald snatched the list from Hermione, as he turned it over and around, as if in search for another page or a missed sentence, but Harry had looked _over and over and over_ at the list and there simply _wasn’t_ more to it than what met the eye. He contacted the Ministry several times, each time they reiterated that the list was final, and so he became more and more anxious with each day. The choices were worse than he envisioned, but _more_ so when this was his entire future on the line. He couldn’t picture sharing a life with either of those men. He couldn’t picture a future like that.

“This is bollocks!” Ron shouted. “What did Kinglsey say?”

“Just that he’s pushing for the repeal of the law as fast as he can,” muttered Harry. “It’s just that there’s no chance of that happening any time before Christmas, which is way too late for it to make a difference for me. I just -! I don’t know what else I can do!”

“What if you got that Tracey girl to tell the truth? There’s exceptions for being put on the list, right? Like, if you’re in a relationship already. If she tells them that she’s dating some bloke, they’d have to take her off and put someone else on instead. You could have a _proper_ choice, then! Just get her to tell the truth and you can go with someone else!”

“It’s not that easy, Ron! There’s a _reason_ why she hasn’t told her parents! I didn’t ask for details, because it’s not my place and it’s not as though it matters, but she knows her parents better than I sure as hell do, and if she thinks it’s better they don’t know -? We talked for a while, but I got the impression she was _terrified_ of telling them. It could be more to it than meets the eye, like maybe it’s class or religion or age? I just know she can’t say anything.”

“You should have asked, Harry!” Hermione snapped. “This is your _future_ on the line here. It’s not fair of her to keep such a secret, but to expect _you_ to do the honourable thing and not choose her, just so _she_ can be happy -? At the very least, maybe if you discussed the reasons with her so that you could intervene and get her parents to -!”

“To what? To agree to her marriage? That could take months, if it ever happens, and those are months that I _really_ can’t waste, because I only have until August! I could _still_ end up stuck with the _exact_ same choices, so I might as well use that time wisely, not -!”

“Waste it on something that could be impossible?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, _that_ ,” he snapped.

They sat in an awkward silence. Harry felt his hands shake in his lap, which made him suddenly grateful for the desk between them, as he didn’t want to feel more exposed than he already did, and the last thing he wanted was _pity_ for the fear he felt. It was simply terrifying to think that his life had come to _this_ . . . a choice between two men that he felt zero attraction or love towards, whilst _abandoning_ the woman he loved in the process, and he wondered how anyone would expect him to choose? He looked up when he heard Ron slide the list back across to him, but looked away again when he saw the horror in his friend’s eyes.

“I don’t even know if I’m attracted to guys,” muttered Harry.

He tried not to blush, as he ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t something he ever gave much thought to before, not least because he was in a serious relationship with Ginny, but also because the war gave very little time for experimentation or dating or thought about anything except the trauma endured. This was _not_ how he envisioned ever exploring that side of himself, especially when he assumed his life would be spent in Ginny’s arms and no one else’s, and he gave a sad and nervous smile at the horrifying realisation.

“Do you . . . want to use the time to find out?” Hermione asked.

“No. God, no!” Harry winced. “I’m not that kind of guy. I don’t want to lead anyone one just so I can work through my issues, plus a casual relationship would feel _wrong_ , I mean -! I can’t _help_ this law and getting married, but I _could_ help that! I couldn’t do that to Ginny.”

“It’s not as though he _has_ to work it out, Hermione,” said Ron. “There’s potions he can use to get around the whole ‘procreation’ aspect, although I hear they take _months_ to make, but you got to figure a greasy git like Snape could make them easily enough, right? If push comes to shove, I bet Slughorn could make one. You wouldn’t have to – you know – _do it_ , then. You just need some DNA, like a Polyjuice Potion, and drink the whole lot!”

“Wonderful. I can be married to a guy that I might never be attracted to, use a potion to have a child that neither of us want, and then give up my dream of being an auror to raise them, because there’s no way in hell I can expect support from Blaise or Snape. Okay, so tell me what is the silver lining to this? Maybe they can swap Tracey for the Giant Squid?”

“Hey, least that creature has more compassion than Snape ever did.”

Harry laughed despite himself. He saw how Ron gave a quirk of his lips, as he tried to keep the atmosphere light, and – in a way – he appreciated it, because the moment of distraction was a moment where he could forget the horrors at hand. The door at the back of the classroom jerked open, before a first-year put a frightened looking face inside and apologised for disturbing the three of them, and ran out before Harry could ask what they wanted. Ron gave a sigh and muttered something about the first-years getting smaller and more timid each year, before he shrugged and looked at Harry with a somewhat confused expression.

“Well,” said Ron. “Blaise is kind of alright looking, isn’t he?”

“Something you’re not telling us, Ron?” Harry teased.

Ron pulled a face that made Harry laugh aloud. He felt almost good for the first time in a long time, and even Hermione smiled and gave an eye roll. The look of both disgust and shock that Ron wore was just too funny to ignore, whilst the ability to just _laugh_ took some of the edge away, and made him realise that – despite everything – there could be moments where he might be happy again, and it felt less hopeless in that instant. He wiped away a tear and shook his head with a grin, whilst Ron continued to pout.

“Hey, I don’t have to be gay to know he’s okay looking,” said Ron.

“Everyone has to have _something_ going for them,” muttered Hermione. “In Blaise’s case, I would say that his attractiveness and superficial charm are about as deep as his personality runs. He may not have been a Death Eater, but he certainly _was_ very anti-muggle. Do you remember some of the things he would say about Ginny or myself? That isn’t to mention the reputation his mother has, and whilst you can’t judge the child by the parent . . .”

“Yeah, but isn’t that _exactly_ what Snape did to Harry? Hell, he was a _bastard_ to you, just because you were friends with Harry! Not to mention that he practically tortured poor Neville! So the guy’s a war hero, great, but you’re telling me that excuses him being a total prick for seven years straight? No part of being a spy said to be a prat!”

“Well, certainly not, but I suppose that will only be much worse now,” said Hermione in deep thought. “Harry revealed his most personal memories and secrets during the battle, not to mention to the Ministry to exonerate him, and that will likely only make him more resentful.”

“See! Plus Blaise probably wants kids, but Snape? He _hates_ children!”

“He has to have _some_ paternal urge to be a Head of House.”

It was likely very true. Snape had – after all – risked his very life to save Draco’s, which wasn’t to mention all that he did to protect Harry without the younger man ever realising, and those were just the more apparent supposedly selfless acts. The fact was that the Head of House often acted as a parent for first-years away from home for the first time; he kept his office and rooms the same, even when his teaching position changed, _partially_ so that he could be close to the students in case of emergency. Still, wouldn’t anyone act that way?

Harry couldn’t imagine most adults turning away a crying child, especially when his bond with Teddy was so strong, and so it was probably more of being a halfway-decent human than something of a ‘father figure’. He would admit that he didn’t know how Snape acted with his students, so it was possible he counselled them and escorted them to the infirmary, just as it was possible that he checked in on them and worried about their well-being, but something told him that _wasn’t_ the case. That wasn’t to mention the fact that being _paid_ to mentor and chaperone children wasn’t the same as _parenting_ a child . . .

“How do you think Blaise would raise a child?” Harry asked.

They stopped bickering with each other to look at him, which made him briefly look away to avoid their gaze, until he sensed the sadness emanating from Hermione, and he realised that she – unlike him – would always trust her partner and know what to expect from their relationship together. He saw how she chewed her lip and brushed back a lock of hair, and he heard her loud exhale of breath and how she fidgeted in her chair, and he expected that she knew full well what he meant to imply. He waited for her to speak first.

“I never really gave it much thought,” said Hermione.

“Yeah? Well, I have,” he said coldly. “He’s a pureblood, but one that strongly follows traditions and is intelligent enough not to align himself with the losing side, and he’d probably want to teach his child those same ‘lessons’, too. I am _not_ having any children of mine growing up to think that muggles and muggle-born people are second-class citizens! I would rather put up with Snape, at least he wouldn’t teach them that.”

“Perhaps not, but could you really co-parent with him? You always dreamed of little ‘James Sirius’ and ‘Albus Severus’, but it would be a _massive_ fight to get him to agree to even _one_ of those names, let alone all four, and what if he doesn’t _want_ to be a parent? You could find that he’s never around, maybe your children grow up feeling abandoned because of it.”

“If he’s not around, that’s even better, right? I have enough love to give a child, plus I could teach them right from wrong and not have to worry about him lowering their self-esteem. He can’t treat them like he did us, not if he’s never around to hurt them.”

“Harry, you’ll have to _live_ with him. It’s part of Decree Four!”

“It doesn’t mean we can’t have separate quarters!”

He slammed his hand down on the desk, before he realised how angry he seemed. He looked to Hermione with a look of guilt and shame, before he made to apologise, until she raised a hand and shook her head, which meant that he there was no need to say anything. It was a relief to know that she didn’t hold it against him, but he _truly_ felt awful for snapping at her like that, but the anger he felt was simply so -! It was _burning_ inside of him! It felt as if every beat of his heart sent a surge of agony and rage through him. He could barely control it.

It was just so _intolerable_ to picture a life without Ginny, but worse still to picture one tied to a man that he held no affection towards, and to picture raising a child with someone that he _knew_ to dislike children as a whole -? That wasn’t to say that Snape was a bad man, but he was deeply flawed. Harry felt seven years of hatred and disgust, emotions that didn’t just disappear over the course of a night, and – even though he _knew_ Snape to be on their side and to have sacrificed so much . . . he still felt a residual sense of bitterness. It was possible he might never forgive Snape for such bullying, even if he felt _grateful_ for all he did.

“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind,” muttered Ron.

He turned to give Ron a rather stern look, but the other man simply held his gaze. The fact was that he didn’t _know_ what he was going to do, but he _felt_ that Severus would be the better option, because – at the very least – he was trusted by Dumbledore and the Order, not to mention that he fought on their side and protected the school as best as he could, and there was truly no alternative. He couldn’t break Tracey away from her love, especially when she would _hate_ him for it, and Blaise was just so anti-Muggle and so snobbish!

“No,” said Harry. “I’ve just been giving it a lot of thought . . .”

“About the old dungeon bat? Seriously? He’s more than twice your age and made your life hell! Don’t tell me you’re romanticising him already? Merlin, Harry! Granted you might not _have_ to bed him what with potions and spells and stuff, but he’s still the greasy-haired and hook-nosed bastard whose tongue would probably _melt_ with a single good word! He only survived by _sheer chance_! If there was any justice at all -!”

“Don’t! Don’t you _dare_ finish that thought!” Harry snapped. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for telling Voldermort the prophecy, and I don’t know whether his being a triple-agent and helping us out redeems him in any way, but I _do_ know that he _didn’t_ deserve to die! He may not be a good man, but I’m _glad_ the potion he took beforehand worked!”

“Okay, fine, I’m sorry! I may have crossed a line there! Still, come on! You’re trying to say that you’d be fine with a guy almost forty that is _way_ not attractive and _tortured_ us for our entire time at school? Your mum dumped him, boohoo! That let’s him _name-call_ Hermione?”

“Of course it doesn’t! It’s just the better of two evils, Ron! That’s all!”

“Really? It doesn’t creep you out that he was into your mum?”

Harry clenched his fist and let out a low hiss of breath. It was easy to accept that his teachers were once young themselves, although strange and somewhat surreal to realise that what he _saw_ wasn’t necessarily who they _were_ or had _become_ , but it was harder to accept that Snape’s experiences were so drastically different to his _ideals_ of what his parents once were, and more so that he was once _friends_ with his mother . . . _in love_ with her. He remembered even how Snape wanted to look into his eyes, _because those were the eyes of Lily_.

“I try not to think about it,” snapped Harry.

There was something not right about it, but – without talking to Severus – he would never know how much interest was directed at Harry as a person and how much was based around the ideal of his mother, just as he would never know how much anger was based on his actions or the memory of his father. He knew that they all carried their burdens and issues, but the injustice that he could be judged on _someone else’s_ accomplishments and failings . . . it just wasn’t right! He wanted to be seen as an _individual_ , not as someone else’s _shadow_. He thought about the irony of that, before he spoke without thinking:

“It’s not as though he’d be marrying her _twin_.”

“Oh, that’s low, that is!” Ron rolled his eyes. “My brother _died_! It’s different!”

“Yeah, well, my mother died too, in case you didn’t notice.”

Hermione reached out to take a firm hold of Ron’s arm, as she looked pleadingly across to Harry, and – he realised – it was clear that she was caught in the middle. It was likely that she could see how worried Ron was about his friend, just as she could see how frustrated Harry was at his situation, and the two argued merely out of heated emotions and the inability to deal with each other _and_ their feelings at once. It wasn’t fair on Hermione to mediate, but – for better or worse – it was a role given to her over the series of their lives.

“Can we _please_ calm down?” Hermione asked.

“He’s the one being unreasonable!” Ron snapped. “Listen to him!”

“I _am_ listening to him, Ronald! We had enough falls outs before the war, but I would _like_ to think that we’ve all lost enough to _never_ fall out over something so trivial ever again, and – believe it or not – this is something _serious_ , as such we need to _work past_ the bickering and _work together_. If you both start trading insults, someone will get hurt and the other will storm off, but then where will we be? That will help no one and Harry _needs_ help. This is a massive decision, one we need to _support_ him through, not judge him for his feelings.”

“I get that, Hermione! I just -!” Ron stopped and turned to look at Harry. “Listen, mate, you’re my best friend and I can’t imagine a life without you, but that’s why I don’t want to see you throw it all away! I’m not saying I _want_ you dating Blaise, because you deserve the best . . . like Ginny . . . say, why don’t you two patch things up and -?”

“No, I am _not_ having this discussion again,” said Harry coldly.

Harry stood up quickly and purposefully. It took all his strength not to lash out, because the only thing worse than being stuck with Snape was to lose Ginny in the process, and he wanted _so much_ for this to all go away and be with her. The fact that Ron could remind him of this, as if he had any _choice_ in the matter -! Well, it was like a slap in the face. Ron _meant_ well, but he just didn’t understand that sometimes things just didn’t work out the way you pictured them, and he _needed_ to put Ginny first in this situation.

They watched him, as he snatched up his papers and files, almost as if neither one dared to say a word lest they cause him to snap, and – with his past record – he couldn’t blame them in the least. He shoved all his work into a briefcase, before he pulled on his coat so forcefully that one of the sleeves ripped somewhat, which caused him to curse and slam his case down onto the table, so that he could fist his hands and scrunch closed his eyes, all in a desperate attempt to fight away tears or a scream of frustration. Eventually he caught his breath and controlled his heartbeat, before he picked up his case and looked at them with watery eyes.

“I’m going back to the Ministry,” he said quietly. “See why they put them on the list.”

“Okay, but if you need _anything_ , Harry,” replied Hermione, “you’ll tell us?”

He gave a curt nod, before he turned and walked around the desk, but stopped an inch or so from his two friends . . . he didn’t want to part like this, but even a second longer and he felt as if he may break entirely. They looked somewhat worried, with Ron actually flushed red with frustration, and he couldn’t leave them without putting things right, so – with a heavy sigh he – ran a hand through his hair and clenched tight to his briefcase, before he nodded once more and headed quickly towards the classroom door to leave.

“Sure,” he said. “I promise.”


	5. Chapter Five

# Chapter Five

‘ _What on Earth is this, Potter_?’

Harry heard the voice before he saw the face. It was enough to make him instinctively reach for his wand, which he grabbed with such force that his knuckles became white, and – in a matter of seconds – he aimed it across the hall and through an open door, where he could see his young godson sleeping in his cot. He paused for a second, but that second was enough to cause him to wince, as he _knew_ that any hesitation could cost dearly in battle, and – whilst this wasn’t a battle – the instinct was not one that he wanted to grow rusty.

He cast the _Muffliato_ Charm and let his shoulders sag in relief, as he saw that – despite the heavy slam of a door – Teddy barely even stirred and made no noise at all. Still, a further second of hesitation would have seen his godson rudely awoken, and what about his training as an auror? If he didn’t act in time, a suspect could easily seriously hurt him, and he just _couldn’t_ risk that . . . not when he had Teddy to help raise and friends that depended upon him . . . he couldn’t risk being hurt or killed. The wand suddenly felt heavy in his hand. He dropped it onto the desk and looked at his hand, as if it were burned, and wondered how long it would take to use it out of instinct or urgency and _not_ remember that fateful battle.

“Explain yourself,” bellowed the voice.

Harry turned to face the intruder. It was hard to focus when he was still somewhat dazed from using his wand, as his head spun in residual fear and memories of the battle, all so real that he felt oddly disassociated from his body and the moment. The _sound_ of someone bursting into his house – one just bought and situated in the supposedly safe Hogsmeade – was enough to cause his heart to race painfully in his chest, and he felt a strange mixture of horror and gratitude that he was able to recognise that this person was not a threat, as he _nearly_ cast a jinx to disable them. It was both luck and quick recognition that made him realise the truth, as he changed an attack into a spell to muffle the ensuing argument from his godson.

The fear shouldn’t last this long, should it? He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, as he looked up to see Snape march across the hall to stand directly before him, and – as he did so – Snape lifted a piece of paper high to waft before Harry’s eyes. It shook him out of his thoughts and angered him somewhat, because suddenly the reality of the situation kicked in and he realised how _disrespectful_ this was, and he _knew_ that Snape had no right to _barge_ into his home and _thrust_ papers in front of him like that! Harry snatched the papers from his hand and looked down at them curiously, until Snape snatched them back in turn.

“You want me to explain myself?” Harry snapped.

“I would be most delighted, if you could explain your behaviour.” Snape curled his lip and stepped forward into Harry’s personal space. “I can understand your reluctance; after all, it is not as if this affects _my_ life in the least, nor shall it impinge upon _my_ future. I suppose I have no right at all to disturb the _Chosen One_ on ‘moving day’, but my excitement could not be contained on learning of our _engagement_ through a Ministry letter!”

The _Muffliato_ charm was a good idea. Snape’s words began calm, albeit laced with sarcasm, but each and every word became louder and angrier until he was virtually screaming, with his face a mere inch from Harry’s. There was redness to his cheeks, which Harry cruelly thought was the first touch of colour they felt in years, and he could almost count the blackheads upon his hooked nose, but – with a deep breath – he realised that he was purposely noticing only the flaws and ignoring the good. He needed to calm down and be _fair_.

“This is _my_ home, _Professor_ ,” he said. “I would ask for some respect.”

“Ah, respect, is it? The same respect you showed me by revealing my deepest secrets to all those that would listen? The same respect you showed me by assuming me a monster until concrete proof showed otherwise? The same respect you gave me with _this_?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say! I thought you _knew_ about the list! I _met_ Tracey and she was fully aware about it! Hell, even _Blaise_ sent me letters about the whole thing! The Ministry explicitly told me that _every single person_ on the list was informed, so that they could provide any legal or ethical reasons about why they _shouldn’t_ be on the list in time to _change_ the list! Anyway, what are you even _doing_ here? How did you _find_ me?”

“You should choose your Secret Keeper more wisely,” snapped Snape. “Did you learn nothing from your parents? The Fidelius Charm has obvious limitations and weaknesses, but confiding your new address to a witch that has an _incessant_ need to meddle in the affairs of others -? It speaks volumes of your misplaced trust.”

“Don’t you _dare_ badmouth Hermione! I was going to tell you the address eventually anyway, because at _some_ point before August 16 th we _might_ have found it beneficial to _talk_ , but _you_ were the one that refused to talk to me all this time, Snape! _You_!”

“Forgive me for wishing to cut all ties to my past!”

“Forgive _me_ for doing all I could!”

Harry breathed deep to calm himself. He felt Snape’s warm breath upon his nose and lips, as the older man stood _so damned impossibly close_ , and there were even a few flecks of saliva upon his cheek from how hard Severus screamed at him. It made him feel _sick_ , because this close proximity felt threatening and disrespectful at best, but with it being Snape . . . he still felt so _conflicted_ about his once teacher, and – whilst he respected him and felt grateful to him for his actions – he still _loathed_ what he did during school. He wanted him to back away.

It was then that Snape stepped backwards, which cause Harry to let out a low exhale of breath in sheer relief. He unclenched his hands; he didn’t remember tensing them or bunching them into fists, but evidently he did at some point, to the extent that he could feel small crescent-shaped cuts on his palm. The sound of his heart reverberated in his ears, so that every small pulse felt like a drum, and he _hated_ this feeling. He hated that Snape still made him feel on edge and defensive. He hated that the war left him overreacting to certain stimuli, constantly tired with nightmares, and apparently scared of Snape even when he _knew_ the man to be safe.

“I honestly thought you knew about the list,” said Harry.

Snape snorted and began to pace somewhat. He took a couple of steps, before he stopped and hunched over to be more on eye-level with Harry. The look that he wore was one of absolute livid frustration, as if he were caught between raising his wand and raising his fist, and Harry found that level of aggression hard to deal with on the whole. It was true that the training to be an auror was intense, which included combat and duelling, but in practise all confrontation remained somewhat difficult to deal with, despite how well he hid it at large.

“I did,” snapped Snape. “My issue is that you _picked_ my name, Potter.”

“Yeah, well, what else could I do? Tracey has a muggle fiancé, but don’t tell anyone I told you that, okay?” Harry shrugged and locked his hands on the back of his neck. “I just _couldn’t_ pick someone so anti-muggle and pro-pureblood like Blaise either.”

“So I am the better of three evils? I am honoured.” Snape glared darkly at him. “Did you – even for a _second_ – think about my reaction to this? I understand that the world was handed to you upon a platter, Potter, but some of us struggled and suffered through our existences, so much so that death may well have been a blessing. I did not expect to survive, but I _did_ expect a degree of freedom should I have done so. I planned to make a new life in seclusion.

“What seclusion will I get betrothed to a former student? You are _hardly_ inconspicuous. You attract attention wherever you go, and – since I have awoken from my coma – I have yet to see a single day where you are not upon the headlines of a paper! I had my whole life _dictated_ to me, Potter! I was a pawn of both the Dark Lord and Albus! I had my every action decided for me, so that even my thoughts and ideas and feelings were no longer my own; _everything_ could be seen by the Dark Lord. Now the war is over, you would force me to marry you? You would deny me my right to free choice even now?”

Harry slumped back against the desk heavily. He ran a hand over his face and looked about the hall, where the staircase to his right and the open doors to the kitchen left stood, and he felt a strong urge to turn his back to Snape and walk away. It was an almost childish response, but he just needed time to _think_ and _breathe_. The room felt cold, although that was likely due to how much there was to set up, and he wondered whether Teddy was comfortable with the blankets and charms . . . Snape must have hated him.

“I didn’t think of that,” said Harry quietly.

“No? Did you also consider other such issues? You are aware that I once harboured feelings for your mother, are you not? Those are feelings that I still hold to this day, which have motivated me and inspired me even when I have otherwise been at the point of giving up on life and redemption, and yet you assume me to be gay or bisexual? Even if you assumed correct, you are _half_ my age. I _taught_ you and watched you grow from a boy into a man!”

“It’s – it’s not as though we have to _do_ anything! Ron said that there are potions we can use to procreate, so we don’t even have to _touch_ one another! It doesn’t have to lead to us re-examining or redefining our relationship, plus _neither_ of us needs to give a label to our sexuality! We just need to – to live together and even then we can have different quarters.”

“What if such a potion fails?” Snape wrung a hand in the air. “What if we’re pushed to the three-month deadline for conception and we’re forced to do things the old-fashioned way? What if you’re forced to touch and look upon _this_?”

Harry watched as Snape ripped at his collar. In a matter of seconds, the top few buttons of the older man’s shirt and robes were wrenched off from the material, as the black clothing was yanked down to reveal the expanse of neck and shoulder. It was the first time – since seeing Snape in the hospital bed – that he remembered seeing any inch of skin save from hands or face, but what he saw . . . it was _bad_. He assumed that potions and medicines would help with the healing process, but they hadn’t . . . they hadn’t helped at all!

There were two deep and raised scars from Nagini’s bite, which ran parallel from just under his jawbone and down over his collarbone, where – he assumed – they probably ran even further and possibly over the abdomen and hipbone. They were a violent shade of red, whilst the skin all around looked taut and shiny, and it was perhaps only a combination of the blood-replenishing potions and anti-venom medicines that saved him, along with a strong desire to fight and healers that reached him barely in time. If the potions Snape took in advance failed, or if Harry hadn’t sent help immediately after the battle, he could very well be _dead_.

“That’s – that’s too far ahead to think about,” he said lamely.

He raised a hand to his mouth and pulled at his lips, as he tried to snap himself out of the moment in which he _swore_ he saw Snape die, and in which the memories were given to him, because the blood -! It – it was the worst moment of his life. He felt so responsible, but also could barely bring himself to find any sympathy for his teacher at the time, which was something he would later regret when he learned the truth. Times had changed, but when he looked at those scars -? He wondered who else saw them, as they looked truly intimate and a constant reminder of the war. He wondered what Snape thought about them. He wondered whether he would be able to _touch_ them and not flash back to that moment of fear . . .

Snape stormed the few steps towards him. He stood within his personal space once more, before he raised a hand to point a crooked index finger at him rather menacingly, which Harry wanted nothing more than to slap away. The anger in Snape’s face was back, which reminded him of times where he was grabbed by his clothing and dragged away for lectures or threats or detentions . . . he knew that he was no longer a student, as well as that they were equals almost, but a part of him still felt lost in their old dynamic.

“No,” said Snape coldly. “It’s _now_.”

“I didn’t _ask_ for this, okay? I didn’t ask for any of it! I was supposed to become an auror, marry Ginny, have the three children we planned, and grow old together! I was just unlucky enough to get caught out by an old law before it could be repealed! None of this is my fault! I just – I just can’t _think_ about this right now! We have about four months before we even _need_ to get married, so -! Just give me a few weeks to _process_ this, _please_!”

“I think not, Potter! You sprung this upon me and I demand answers! Yes, I may have been given notice I was on the list, but why should I ever have thought you would choose your greasy and old teacher? You _loathed_ me during school! This – if anything – is a betrayal of implicit trust! What if I do not even _want_ a child? What do we do then?”

“Then we _deal_ with it!” Harry shook his head rapidly. “I hate this. I hate every part of it! I _miss_ Ginny more than you’ll know, but just being friends isn’t enough, and I don’t know . . . maybe this is how you felt back then . . . surely you _get_ this is hard for me?”

“Ah, it’s sympathy that you seek? You should have picked someone else.”

“I _couldn’t_ bloody pick anyone else!”

Harry pushed hard at Snape. The older man stumbled back, and – as he watched Snape nearly fall – he realised that he lost more than just his supposed dignity during the war . . . he lost his strength, too. It must have been almost easy to resign when the world knew the truth of his motives, as no one would want to hear rumours and gossip on a daily basis, but perhaps the real reason he quit was the weakness in his left side, which left him easily unbalanced. Harry stared hard at his left arm, as he tried to think when he last saw Snape properly grip anything in that hand, but the older man caught him staring and angled his body to hide his left side.

“Explain,” said Snape.

“I gave it as much thought as I could,” said Harry quietly. “I couldn’t break Tracey apart from her partner, because I _knew_ how painful that would be, and I didn’t want her _hating_ me for ruining her life. I also knew that there was _no way_ that I could be with Blaise, because I wasn’t going to be used as a trophy-spouse and have my children indoctrinated into such – such _racist bullshit_! I ruled them out. I guess – I guess the only thing was to decide whether I _could_ do this with you, because there were only three choices . . .

“I’m not going to romanticise the past. You were a prick and you know it. I don’t know how much was because you saw me as my father, just as I don’t know how much was because of your cover with Voldermort, but I know you were also looking out for me over the years. You were there to try and perform a counter-curse in my first year, to practically gift-wrapping the sword for me before all . . . _this_. I _hate_ you for what you did, but I also admit that I was wrong for calling you a coward. You might have been an awful teacher, but – ultimately – you were one of the bravest men I’ve ever known. I _trust_ you, Snape.”

It was hard to look at Snape in that moment. He looked away out of embarrassment, before he turned his eyes to look at his godson. It seemed Teddy was sleeping quite peacefully in his cot, where the charm protected his ears from the argument at hand, and Harry smiled almost sadly at the sight, before he realised that – as much as he trusted Snape – he hadn’t thought a lot of this through. He wasn’t sure he _could_ raise a child with this man, and simply being the best choice out of three bad ones wasn’t saying a lot, but what else could he do?

Harry heard Snape give a low hiss of breath, whilst he felt those hard and black eyes stare hard upon him, and Snape stepped back with what looked like a limp. It reminded him briefly of his first year, where he saw this same man with injured leg in the staff room, but this was different and this was permanent damage, and since the battle – having so rarely seen Snape and never for very long – he never realised how bad the damage was, but clearly it was bad enough to impair his movements. He tried not to stare, as clearly the other man was either ashamed or self-conscious, but – as before – Snape spoke as if to distract him from what he wished to be ignored. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“You _trust_ me,” said Snape.

“Yeah, I do,” muttered Harry. “I trust you to make a potion, instead of trying to force me into a situation that neither of us are ready to even attempt. I trust you not to teach any children that their grandparents are second-class citizens, just because they have muggle blood. I trust you to be honest with me and not to hurt me. Does that mean I trust you enough to respect my friends or me? No. The thing is that I can _deal_ with your bullying, but I _can’t_ deal with Blaise’s prejudices or sense of entitlement. That’s just that.”

“How wonderful. You have thought at great length at how this affects _you_ , but not once did you think about _my_ feelings on the matter. I have been told _at great length_ that you seek to be an auror, but – likewise – I sought to establish a laboratory at a private residence to work from home, and it seems that _one_ of us shall have to sacrifice our plans to have this child. Did you give any consideration to which one of us shall _take_ the potion?”

“Well, I –.” Harry did a small double take. “Wait, what do you _mean_ which one of us?”

“Oh, how wonderful to see you’re just as perceptive as ever, Potter.”

There was a brief moment of silence, broken only by a murmur from Teddy and the swish of Snape’s cape, as he swung it around himself to hide his shoulder from sight. It also held the effect of hiding his left leg and arm, so the limp and weakness to his muscles was easily hidden, and it looked as if he made to turn his back upon Harry, but Harry couldn’t bear the thought of that. He could feel his heart race, as he thought that there might be an iota of hope, especially when he _might_ just be able to continue training and follow his dream.

“Just tell me what you mean,” said Harry.

“I won’t yet be forty when this _idiotic_ marriage is due to take place,” replied Severus. “It means that I am fully capable of carrying a child, although there will – admittedly – be more risks from such a pregnancy. It may be the more convenient option for you. That being said, what matters most is what shall happen when the thing is born. Did you give thought to how it would be raised? Did you think we have _vastly_ different expectations and priorities?”

“I figured you would either want to be involved or you wouldn’t. I always got the impression that you didn’t like children, but I guess that was partly because you were teaching a class that you weren’t as passionate about. I don’t _know_ , Snape! There’s too much I don’t know, I admit! I planned to talk to you about it, but I was just -!”

“Playing happy homes with your werewolf godson?”

There were some lines that could not be crossed. Harry stormed forward, until this time _he_ was the one in Snape’s personal space, before he raised a fist and then dropped it by his side, _adamant_ that he wouldn’t stoop to the other man’s level, as he _refused_ to resort to threats and violent gestures. He felt his heart race to an almost impossible speed, as he began to breathe in panted breaths, and he narrowed his green eyes into practical slits, although Snape’s smarmy grin only made his anger increase tenfold. It would be _so_ easy to break

“Don’t _ever_ badmouth Teddy,” said Harry. “ _Don’t_.”

Snape gave a wry smirk and lowered his head conspiratorially, which made Harry’s blood boil past endurance. He felt somewhat light-headed, as well as sickened by the bile at the back of his mouth and the way he felt somewhat dizzy, and he wondered what Snape got out of being so insulting. Did he seek to push people away, maybe so that he couldn’t be hurt when no one could get close? Did he just get a sick sense of sadistic enjoyment from it? Harry didn’t know, but he didn’t _want_ to know. He just wanted him to go away.

“I see I hit a nerve,” said Severus. “How interesting. I shall likely learn your boundaries and limits over time, but – until then – I shall enjoy seeing you grow irked over such trivial matters, not least because it is the _least_ you deserve. You are aware we will be required to reside with one another, yes? This fact has not eclipsed your mind?”

“ _That_ I planned on,” snapped Harry. “It’s why I bought this place. Grimmauld Place has too many bad associations and memories, so I’ve rented it out until Teddy is old enough to take it, and Professor McGonagall said you rented out your home for the same reasons, and that you were renting a small flat somewhere in London? This place is big enough for all children and us. I left the master bedroom to you, kind of as a peace offering. If you want, we can convert the place into two flats, so we _never_ even have to see one another.”

“I see, so you assume that I would want nothing to do with a child that I either sired or bore? I believe that a separate living situation would be best, as much as the law allows, but I think _some_ interaction would be necessary. I refuse to let a Gryffindor take sole custody of my DNA. This is something we _will_ discuss later. I must thank you, however, for not only have you _forced_ me into a family, but now you have taken the _choice_ of a home from me.”

“Fine! _You_ pick a home! It’s a complete waste of money, but if that will make you feel better, _fine_ , I’ll get whatever house you want. In the meantime I have a spare key, so if you _want_ then you can set up a laboratory here and move in whenever you want before the deadline.”

“You would willingly give me a key to your home?”

Harry reached into his pocket with a shaking hand, before he gripped a small bronze key and threw it at Snape as forcefully as he could manage. The key hit the older man on the chest, where it fell with a small clatter to the tiles below, and Snape – despite moving his left arm to catch it – missed it by far, which only proved that his physical limitations were far less than they once were, and it was probably a blessing he was right-handed. It was strange to see the key lying between them, as some sort of heavy weight and filled with more meaning than he could bear. Snape could take it or leave it. He didn’t care.

“I’d only have to give you one eventually anyway,” he snapped.

It was then that he heard Teddy cry. The noise cut him like a knife, especially when he _swore_ to Andromeda to always look after the boy whenever she was unable, and he swore to _himself_ that he would be the best godfather he could be to Teddy. He broke the charm and called out to the child, in hopes his voice would comfort him, but that only caused Teddy to use the bars of the cot to climb to his feet and bounce for attention, as a small hand reached out as if in search of his guardian. Harry felt his heart break and went to him at once.

He thought that he heard Snape struggle to bend down, to pick up the key, which made him wonder whether the older man waited specifically for him to turn to do so, as if too afraid of being judged or pitied for his struggles. In a few seconds, he was in what was temporarily the makeshift nursery, with the hall and Snape in his peripheral vision, and he whisked Teddy into his arms with small noises to hush him and calm him. The child made him feel at once calmer and safer, so that he held Teddy close and breathed in the scent that seemed unique to young children, and he tried hard to hold back a tear at the thought he would _never_ share a moment like this with Ginny. He wondered who she would be with in future.

It was then that he saw Snape appear in the doorway. There was a very thin – almost imperceptible – sheen of sweat to his forehead, whilst he slid the key into his pocket with his right hand, and the look he gave Harry was one of absolute puzzlement. He wanted to hide for a moment, as this felt like too personal a moment to share, especially _knowing_ how much Snape loathed Remus and how much he might take that resentment out on Teddy . . . just like he did to Harry all those years. Still, they would have to _raise_ a child together, wouldn’t they? It would be one of both their blood. He supposed he ought to get used to it . . .

“I’ll be at Hogwarts, if you need be,” said Snape.

Harry said nothing as he left.


	6. Chapter Six

# Chapter Six

“I believe this is _my_ laboratory, Potter.”

Snape rested both hands upon the countertop. There was a large cauldron before him, which let forth the most _revolting_ smell that Harry could ever remember experiencing, and the room was so damned _humid_ -! It was as if the potion steam sought to cling to every orifice and pore it could find, until he felt grimy and greasy about the face, and – as he rubbed away the steam off his glasses with a shirt sleeve – he saw the scattered remains of leftover ingredients all around, until he was forced to wonder how Snape found anything in the chaos.

It took a few moments to realise that wiping his glasses was a futile exercise, although Snape – in a rare moment of compassion – wafted his hand to cast a non-verbal spell, which enabled the steam to be ventilated upwards and away from Harry. He noticed that Snape’s fingertips were somewhat yellow, almost like a smoker in muggle society, and he wondered whether that was from the handling of the ingredients, but there wasn’t really a polite way of asking a question like that. It felt like Snape took _everything_ as a personal attack, even compliments or passing comments. He doubted the upcoming wedding would help matters much.

“Yes, but this is _my_ house,” snapped Harry.

“Ah, but is it really? I thought what was yours was mine?”

“Yeah, well . . . we’re not married yet.”

Snape gave a scoff of derision, as Harry closed the door softly behind himself. The laboratory looked rather impressive, credit where it was due, although it was far smaller and more modest than the one boasted in Hogwarts for the students’ usage. It was positioned in the room opposite the front doors to the house, straight across the hall and next to the desk, and even held a small antechamber that doubled as a storeroom, and – as such – it held a degree of privacy that the other rooms on the ground floor lacked. The only problem was that Snape apparently had _no_ consideration for Harry . . . that or he was _trying_ to be a nuisance.

“You left the doors open,” snapped Harry. “There’s smoke everywhere!”

“I believe that Edward Remus Lupin, that you seem to call ‘ _Teddy’_ –” Snape spat the nickname with derision “– is currently with his grandmother. The only side-effects from these fumes upon adults would be an excess of oil upon the skin and a mild sense of euphoria.”

“Euphoria? Seriously? You don’t seem very euphoric.”

“Believe me, I am _ecstatic_.”

Harry smiled despite himself. It was difficult not to judge Snape harshly, but he tried to assume the best, which – in this case – was that he was making a rather dry joke and not striving to be bitterly sarcastic. He walked up to the work-surface, where he pulled up a stool and sat opposite Snape, who stood and continued to work with an almost enviable skill, and – Harry realised with a slight spark of sadness – this was the _first_ time that he watched Snape work since _knowing_ him to be the Half-Blood Prince. It felt somewhat surreal to see both his beloved mentor and most hated bully combined into one person before him . . .

They remained in silence for a long while, although it was perhaps a good sign that Snape had yet to throw him out of the laboratory. He watched carefully and saw that – beyond each swish and flourish – there was a weakness in his left hand hard to miss, subtle as it was, and he saw how that hand often passed the responsibility of work to the right quite often, and yet Snape didn’t let it hold him back in the least. He worked fast and gracefully, with an almost second-sense of weights and sizes, so that he never needed to double-check anything.

It was impressive to watch, to say the least.

He could see the expertise in Snape’s gestures and judgements, and he could see why Snape insisted on setting up a laboratory before moving in. Those several weeks of construction and organisation and decorating now made sense, because – to Snape – this was _the_ most important room of the entire house, as well as the _one_ place where he could feel at home and feel most useful, and this was his _living_. They rarely spent much time together, aside from perhaps the occasional shared meal or passing each other by in the hallways, but he knew that _already_ Snape received many commissions and requests for potions. This was his career.

“Look, Snape,” he said, “we _need_ to start getting on. The decree says –”

“On the contrary, ‘Decree Four’ says the following: ‘the couple must meet with an intervener at least once a month to keep track of their progress in their relationship’. The wording is clumsy, but those in the Ministry have always displayed a shockingly low level of intellect throughout the centuries. I believe the use of the mediator is simply to prevent any potential for abuse within the relationship, nothing more or less. There shall be no abuse, I believe?”

“Of course not! That’s not the _point_ , though! If your only reason to be nice is because someone is _making_ you -! We’re going to have a _child_ , Snape, but we can’t even use each other’s first names or spend more than five minutes without arguing! What kind of life is that for a child to be brought into? I just thought we could _try_ more to get on.”

“You thought wrong,” said Snape with a cold stare. “You chose to marry me, as such it is time that you began to _understand_ me. I would be willing to talk to you about this, but _not_ when you invade my personal and private space during a crucial part of the potion’s process.”

“I remember the first speech you ever gave us. You were so eloquent and poetic.”

“Indeed, I am capable of such speech when properly motivated.”

“Then _why_ can’t you be motivated around me?”

Harry looked to him almost pleadingly. He thought back to the humour of the Prince, as well as his witty observations and sharp intelligence, and he remembered the passion that Snape held during his lessons, to the extent it sometimes seemed he could write soliloquies to the process of potion making. It was hard not to wonder where that person hid so well, because – despite their progress since the end of the war – they still weren’t quite civil, still something that straddled the line between ‘civility’ and ‘cruelty’ . . . not that Snape cared.

“Forget it,” snapped Harry. “What potion are you working on?”

The look that Snape gave him could have shattered glass. It was cold, but there was also a sharp sense of curiosity and wary scepticism. Harry watched as Snape pulled back a hand very slowly, before he wrapped it with great purpose around his wand, which he used to meticulously adjust the flames beneath the cauldron and cast a stasis spell. He then slid the wand into its holster within his sleeve, before he let out a very low hiss of breath.

“The one we shall need to conceive,” said Snape coolly.

“I – I thought -?” Harry shook his head. “The marriage isn’t until August.”

“Indeed, but it is early July now. The potion will need to be made in three distinct stages, with it finally reaching completion approximately towards the middle of September. It is best to begin the potion early . . . it is notoriously difficult to create effectively, any failings – as such – can be caught early and I can redo the potion should it be necessary. I also have _many_ issues regarding our having a child . . . we must talk about it at some point.”

“Yeah, but not now, okay? I know we keep putting it off, but I just _really_ can’t face it. I never thought I would have child with someone that I didn’t love, let alone when I’m only going to be – what – _nineteen_ when it’s born? This – this isn’t what I wanted from life! Neither of us _wants_ this, Snape! Can’t we _do_ something? There has to be _something_ we can do!”

“If the great Harry Potter cannot delay the inevitable, there is very little in the power of an ex-Death Eater to achieve any more than what has already been done. It is better to prepare for our fate than to waste energy fighting what cannot be fought.”

“Well, I’m not going to give up that easily!”

“I can see that much for myself.”

Snape’s fingers tightened around the knife in his hand. The knuckles of his long fingers turned white with pressure, whilst the left hand – which rested over the blade to guide its movements – shook with an almost imperceptible tremor. It was perhaps unfair to lash out at Snape, as he tried more than anyone to have the law repealed, but it was true what he said . . . no one would accept the word of a man associated with the Death Eaters. Slowly, his reputation was being rebuilt, but not fast enough as far as the Ministry was concerned.

It was clear that the whole ordeal of the war left a scar upon Snape, and it must have been truly traumatising to find the whole of society in such a state of disarray upon awakening. There were many of the students that he taught – and essentially raised – killed during the war, whilst his innermost secrets were revealed for the world to know, and the very laws of their world were steadily being rebuilt, as trials took place and the guilty were being made to pay for their crimes. There wasn’t a single person unaffected by the war, which was understandable, and Harry got the feeling that Snape was _exhausted_ . . . so much of his life was spent in the servitude of others, it was as if he hadn’t the strength to fight any longer.

Harry could see a few more lines on Snape’s face, mainly around the corners of the eyes, that simply weren’t there when he last taught Harry, and there was something about his expression that showed the spark of life was long gone. Occasionally, he would spin around and his cape or robes would swish outwards, with that familiar billow and rather impressive swirl upon the air, but mainly he seemed somewhat more constrained and anti-social that he once was, which said it all in Harry’s opinion. He was _resigned_. It was as if he realised that he held no power over his life, perhaps never did, and _accepted_ his fate accordingly.

“We’re going to have to raise a child _together_ ,” muttered Harry.

He looked up at Snape and saw the man give a long sigh, as he began to put the excess ingredients into small vials or jars, and cleared away the work surface with great professional demeanour. It appeared that he would not answer, at least for a moment, but he merely took his time to clear away his belongings before he made to reply, and – in those moments – Harry felt his heart begin to race in nervous anticipation of the possible reply. He looked up to Snape and saw the man finally _stop_. It was almost a relief.

“I believe this is a suitable home to raise a child,” said Snape.

“Yeah? It’s hardly a home, is it? Two parents in denial that don’t even –!”

“There are children that endure far worse, Potter. Believe me . . . I have taught many of them in my tenure as teacher. This house has three bedrooms, an attic that can be converted into a fourth room, and a father that – I am told – has enough gold in Gringotts to create a chain of banks, should he so wish. Their every need shall be met, I am sure. If it reassures you somewhat, I shall personally guarantee to oversee their education.”

“Damn it, Snape! I don’t _care_ about those things! There’s more to life than just material possessions and wealth! You know that Ron’s poor, but you know what else, _he’s happy and he’s loved_! He never wanted for anything, because he had a _family_! _That’s_ what matters!”

“How foolishly sentimental. Do you honestly believe you can love an unwanted child?”

“If you honestly believe you can’t, I don’t think I can go through with this.”

“We have absolutely no choice in the matter,” snapped Snape.

They stared at each other coldly. The tension in the air was almost palpable, so that every single second felt as if it could be the precursor to some violent event. Harry felt his mouth run dry and his heart race painfully, whilst his hands tightened into fists and his temples ached with a dull pain, and he glared at Snape just as much as Snape glared at him. It was just so _unreal_ to hear that someone could have a child and _not_ love them! It felt like an insult to nature itself! Harry felt _sickened_ that Snape could even say such a thing!

“Our children shouldn’t have to suffer for that,” said Harry quietly.

“No, they shouldn’t . . .” Snape paused to give a sigh. “Potter . . . _Harry_ . . . I have never once been overtly cruel to the children in my house, for they were in my explicit care, and I would not be cruel to any child borne of this union. I would have high expectations of them, just as I would not go easy upon them, but it is important for a child to be prepared for the reality of the world around them. I would not wish my childhood upon any child of mine, so I will not become my father, but – that being said – I cannot promise to love any such child.”

“I don’t want to bring a child into a loveless family! It’s one thing for us not to love each other, because – well – we’re adults and this is just a marriage of convenience, but it’s an entirely other thing to bring a _child_ into that! You weren’t the only one with a messed up childhood, Snape! I never knew what love was! I didn’t even know that my mother _died_ to protect me! I could _never_ let a child of mine feel anything less than loved completely!”

“I do not know what you _want_ from me, Potter! I do not know how you can expect me to look upon the child and _not_ feel an intense sense of violation and resentment! This creature will be _forced_ upon me, and – whilst it is not the fault of the child – the child _will_ be a constant reminder of the freedom stolen from me! Do you honestly _not_ feel raped by this?”

Harry winced visibly. It wasn’t how he would have worded things, but he couldn’t deny that the older man had a point . . . it _did_ feel that way. He was being forced into a union with a man that he held no romantic feelings towards, whilst they would be expected to bear forth a child in the process, even if physical contact wasn’t necessary in its creation . . . it did feel as if he lost all control over his life, his body, even his right to _procreate_. This was such a severe breach of his rights! He was angry, but – for the first time – he realised _Snape_ was angry, too.

“I’m sorry,” he said sadly.

“Don’t be,” snapped Snape. “My body can endure nine months.”

Harry did a slight double take, as he watched Snape slink down onto a nearby stool. The older man appeared almost graceful as he sat, which included the sweep of his arm to move his cape out of his way and the way he then folded it about his chest, and – at one time – Harry may have been intimidated by seeing the man before him with arms folded. He wondered how Snape could be so accepting. It had to be an act, didn’t it? Harry thought that maybe this was a part of Snape’s promise to Dumbledore, to Lily even . . .

It just didn’t make _sense_ that someone would subject their body to that! Well, not when they didn’t _need_ to put themselves through it. He thought about how much Snape already sacrificed, as well as the fact that he essentially _forced_ Snape into this situation, and he simply just couldn’t understand why the other man would choose to be the one to bear the child, especially when Harry was _willing_ to be the one and do his share. Still, Snape looked angry to the extent that something _more_ than anger showed upon his face, so that he looked almost strangely peaceful in those moments of absolute fury and disgust at their situation.

“Won’t it interfere with your work?” Harry asked.

“Desperate to change topic, are we?” Snape rolled his eyes. “Very well, I shall humour you. No, it will not interfere with my work. I can set my own schedule as a self-employed man, but I plan only to work upon potions whose fumes and ingredients will not harm the child.”

“You said there might be more risks, though. You said – when we _last_ spoke about this – that there were more risks with you carrying the child! I don’t want you or the child to be at risk! I nearly lost you once, Snape, but I’ll be damned if I let it happen again! We’re not friends. We’re not _anything_ really, but you _are_ a good man at heart and you _are_ a war hero. I’m not going to let you do something _stupid_. You deserve better than that.”

“The risks are minimal with close supervision of a healer,” said Snape calmly. “It is the much more convenient option for us. You will be able to finish your training an auror, Harry, whilst I would be able to work my schedule around the child. I shall admit that my condition is not comparable to yours, but I am not so weak as to make this an impossible endeavour.”

“Oh God, I forgot about that! How bad was the damage done to you? I – I don’t mind doing this instead; I mean . . . I mean one of us would have to give up work at some point anyway, wouldn’t we? One of us will need to raise the child, Snape!”

“Many couples balance full-time work with a family.”

“Like you said, _we’re not a couple_.”

Snape quirked an eyebrow upwards, as if in mockery of Harry, and Harry could only glare back and draw in a deep breath. He didn’t want to explode, because any display of anger would only lead into a fight, but he felt such _rage_ . . . a rage he hadn’t felt since Sirius’ death . . . his life wasn’t supposed to _be_ like this! He wasn’t supposed to be _arguing_ about how best to co-parent a child with _Snape_. This would have been so much easier with Ginny!

“ _Why_ must one of us give up work?” Snape asked in exasperation.

“Snape, I -!” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I never knew my parents. I grew up always wondering what they looked like, what they might have thought about me . . . I used to dream that they weren’t really dead, so that they’d come and take me away. My aunt and uncle were a nightmare, but I – I guess I wonder lately if that was my fault? Everyone that comes into contact with a Horcrux seems to be _changed_ by it, even if it’s a momentary touch, so what if somehow they got some of that evil from _me_ , because Voldermort was in _me_?

“I guess it doesn’t matter now, anyway. I just know that – worse than being locked under the stairs, being neglected and barely fed – the _worst_ part was the loneliness and the feeling that I was _worthless_. I swore that I would be a good father. When I look back, I think I _idealised_ what it meant to be a parent in my head . . . it was probably why I lashed out at you so much when you badmouthed my father, because – in my head – he was perfect . . . like a father should be. I – I want to cherish _every single second_ with my child. I want them to _always_ have one of their parents with them, so that way they _never_ feel wrong or unloved or meaningless. I want one of us to always be there for them.”

The silence that followed was rather awkward. He felt exposed and vulnerable, as he laid out every feeling and fear before Snape, and a part of him felt _terrified_ that the older man would turn this around on him somehow, maybe use this against him to hurt him. It was true that Snape once acted worse than he ought out of fear Voldermort would see into his mind, maybe see his true allegiances through any sympathy towards Harry, but it would be foolish to assume that _all_ of his behaviour was due to that alone. Luckily, Snape responded kindly:

“You want someone to protect them . . .”

“Yeah,” replied Harry. “Someone to laugh at their jokes, someone to kiss their scraped knee, someone to tuck them in at night and tell them how everything will be okay . . . I’m willing to give up my dream, if it means that they get all that.”

“I believe a compromise can be reached. I will not become a full-time guardian, but I am willing to look after them for the duration of your work, if it will enable you to continue working. To be quite frank, the more you work then the less I will need to spend time with you in this house. You could work part-time. I would be willing to look after the child for – at most – sixteen hours a week, then you would still have time to bond with the child.”

“So I work and you look after them, then we trade off? That actually sounds like a fair plan, although . . . I don’t know . . . I would still like for us to have _family_ time. See, I would have _had_ that with Ginny . . . we would have _been_ a family. We’re just two people sharing a house that raise a child together! Compromise though? Can we do that?”

“I believe we can. It would be the fair option.”

The smell of the potion began to become unbearable. It _did_ had an oddly calming effect, which made him wonder whether _that_ was the reason why he didn’t lash out, because the whole discussion felt so _frustrating_ , even if they were slowly making some progress. There was a suspicious part of him that wondered whether Snape left the doors open on purpose, whether the _intent_ was to lead Harry to him out of a desire to stop the smoke, just as whether the effects of the particular potion would lead to a more constructive conversation. Harry ran a hand through his hair and gave a sigh, as he had just one condition on the agreement.

“Okay, but you _can’t_ take them to Malfoy’s place!”

There was an immediate change in Snape’s demeanour, which caught Harry by surprise. The other man spun around with an incredible reflex, before he slammed both hands down upon the counter and leaned forward, so that it almost seemed as if he sought to intimidate Harry, and it reminded him of so many times in Snape’s office, where his old professor would round on him in a rather aggressive and almost violent manner. A curtain of hair fell about his face.

“I will take them where so ever I wish,” snapped Snape.

“Not my child, you won’t! I don’t want Lucius to have an influence on them!”

“Very well, then I equally forbid the Weasley house!”

Harry felt a spark of anger, despite the previous moments of calmness, and he leaned forward in turn, so that both were a mere few inches from one another, as the cauldron bubbled next to them almost to the point of boiling over, but clearly it was supposed to be that way. Snape wouldn’t let a potion ruin under any circumstances. Still, the realisation that Snape was comparing the Malfoy family to the Weasley family -! It took every ounce of strength not to point his wand at Snape then and there! Ron’s family _were_ his family . . . Molly was almost like a mother to him, whilst Ginny held his heart . . . it was a ridiculously unfair demand!

“You’re being immature now!”

“No, I am merely making you a _promise_ ,” snapped Snape. “ _You_ were the one to express a desire to co-parent, Potter! _I_ was the one willing to make a sacrifice so that you can work! If it is now your decision that we can automatically _veto_ the other’s parental decisions, I am _more_ than willing to exercise that right to every extent I am able! If you have decided that discussion is over, it shall _be_ over! My child will not see the Malfoy family on the condition that it does not see the Weasley family! That is all there is to it!”

“That isn’t all there is to it! You know what they did! _You know!_ I don’t want any child of mine around Death Eaters! Lucius _beat_ Dobby, he _sabotaged_ Ginny to the point that she nearly died, and that’s just the _tip of the iceberg stuff_! There’s a reason why he was put into Azkaban, and it wasn’t for his charity work! He’s an evil man!”

“I see, so the whole family is evil by association? You are aware that it was _Draco_ that helped Miss Granger to realise that it was a _Basilisk_ prowling the castle? Ah, I see by your expression you did not! He ripped a page from a book the very day you all bought your school supplies, on the same day that Lucius slipped the diary to Ginny, which I _thought_ was very clear. I don’t imagine for a moment that Miss Granger would _ever_ destroy a book.”

It was infuriating to hear Snape try and excuse Draco’s behaviour! The fact was that it might have been true for all he knew, as certainly Hermione would never destroy or vandalise school property, let alone a _book_ of all things, but that didn’t mean that Draco somehow slipped it to her or left it for her to find! It felt like a flimsy attempt to get Harry to agree to his child being in Lucius’ company, because the fact remained that _both_ father and son did _incredibly_ vile things during the war, and nothing could excuse that. True, Draco was pressured and coerced, at one point with the threat of death, but what was Lucius’ excuse for _decades_ of crimes and bullying and cruelty? Nothing could excuse that. Nothing.

“That doesn’t excuse the rest of his actions _or_ Lucius’!”

“No, you are right, it does not.” Snape gave a sigh and leaned back. “Lucius is a good friend of mine. He was a prefect when I first attended Hogwarts, where he protected me and mentored me, and through him I built many connections. He trusted me, and his wife trusted me enough to leave her son’s well being in my very hands. I do not claim to believe him a good man, nor shall I excuse his actions, but he is a good friend. You see the world in such black-and-white terms, but it is not so, Harry . . .

“You must learn to separate the Death Eater from the man. It was essential during my time as a spy, especially when I wore many masks myself . . . your mangy mutt of a godfather also saw the world as black-and-white, so to him I was irredeemable, but I like to think that you are _better_ than the monster he became. Lucius was – and is – oftentimes _insufferable_ , so that I have learned to _always_ have an excuse on hand when visiting, just in case I am required to leave him to his anti-Muggle rants in peace, but other times have been most enjoyable. It is somewhat of a relief to be able to spend hours discussing arts, literature and politics, and – in the absence of Dumbledore – there are very few that I have to spend my time with.”

“You could spend your time with _me_ ,” said Harry. “Professor McGonagall would be happy to spend time with you, I think, and Hermione is good company . . . you can’t _trust_ Lucius! I bet I learned more about you through your memories than even _Dumbledore_ himself knew! You deserve _better_ than some slime like Malfoy! Are you just trying to maintain contacts? Are you just that stuck for company that you’d put up with _him_?”

“I believe this conversation is at an end. I will not defend my choice of companions or personal preferences in platonic affairs, but simply know this: I will also be a parent to this future child. I will not put them in harm’s way, but I have every say in their lives, too.”

“Fine, just _fine_. It’s something else to discuss later.”

“Ah, _now_ we are discussing again?”

Harry saw the way that Snape rolled his eyes. It was enough to force him to let out a hiss of breath, as he looked coldly to the other man. He soon felt a little better after drawing in a deep breath, which somewhat centred him and grounded him, and he looked about the laboratory for some sort of distraction. There was a shelf in the far corner with objects that didn’t look quite like ingredients or tools for potion making, where a photograph lay behind that was still and unmoving, clearly taken with a muggle camera . . .

It was enough to distract him for a moment, as he wondered what could possibly hold enough sentimental value that Snape would want a memento of it, but instead he looked back to the older man and gave a sigh. They _needed_ to discuss how they were going to parent this child, because _clearly_ they had opposing views that would need some form of compromise, and yet he shouldn’t _have_ to compromise! If this were Ginny, they would both agree and neither one would need to sacrifice anything in the slightest. He began to miss her and her wisdom, as well as her patience and warmth, and he wondered _how_ he would be able to do this with Snape, because apparently Snape didn’t understand how important this was to them.

“This is a big deal, Snape,” he said coldly.

“No, it is _not_ ,” replied Snape. “If we are to co-parent, to the extent of always being there for our child and protecting them, then I shall like to think we will teach them right from wrong, and – through that process – the words of a man like Malfoy will not matter to them, for they shall be able to filter and process those words through understanding of what we teach to them in turn. That is all I have to say upon the matter. We are done talking.”

“Oh, you’re such a hypocrite! So it’s fine to just cut a conversation dead so long as _you_ want the last word? You know what -?” Harry shook his head with an angry smile. “No, I’m not going to do this. We’ll talk later when we’re both a lot calmer.”

“Ah, over a romantic candlelight dinner? How lovely.”

Harry stood up abruptly. It seemed that Snape couldn’t hold back his sarcasm long enough to _talk_ about things, but – if he wanted to be childish and petty – that was fine . . . there was no immediate rush, especially when they wouldn’t even need to _take_ the potion until September or so, and Harry could wait. They _would_ talk about it properly. They _needed_ to work out how this would pan out, but in the meantime . . . there was so much to process and so much to come to terms with. He shook his head and looked to Snape with sheer fury.

“I’ll talk to you later,” said Harry coldly.

“I look forward to it, Harry.”

 


	7. Chapter Seven

# Chapter Seven

Harry looked across to Ginny . . .

It was the first time that they spoke in person for some weeks. The presence of Ron and Hermione did little to quell the feelings that he felt, although they perhaps did prevent him from reaching out and _holding_ her, but the desire to hold her still remained . . . the need to _be_ with her still felt as strong as the day he first realised he _loved_ her. There was a harsh stab of guilt, as he _knew_ that they both needed to move on, especially when he was to be married in little over a fortnight, but just seeing her brought back so many memories!

The _Hog’s Head_ was almost empty, which meant that the four of them held a good portion of the room to themselves, and yet he appreciated the silence. It was rare to find moments of peace like this, as other establishments in the village appeared filled to the brim with customers, whilst his home was always an odd assortment of noises. There were the cries and laughs of Teddy, just as there were the social calls from Hermione and Ron, and – most of all – there were the sounds Snape made . . . strange sounds that made the house always feel alive, even when it was at its coldest or most empty state.

The sounds of potions bubbling in the laboratory, the sound of doors closing as Snape pottered about at night, even the sound of the older man sighing and pages being turned from behind closed doors . . . they were all oddly comforting. He never felt alone, even when he didn’t see Snape for several days on end, and he had grown used to falling asleep to the sounds that made their home what it was, which was something _safe_ and _comforting_ , and – even as he grew to long for silence at times – it was always the one thing that he missed most once it was gone. He looked around the inn and saw no light, for the windows were so encrusted with dirt, and he felt the floor sticky beneath him, as though it hadn’t been washed in some decades . . . it made him miss being at home.

“Hard to believe you’re nineteen, mate,” said Ron.

Harry looked up and saw Ron give a small smile. It was enough to make him smile in return, even if he wanted nothing more than to run and hide, and he thought about how this would be his last birthday alone. He wondered whether his friends would mind hanging around with someone that had a child, especially when it would limit the places they could go and it meant that his attention would be split, and he wondered whether Snape would mind babysitting for him to spend time with his friends. Hell, what kind of father would Snape _be_?

It was hard not to steal a look towards Ginny, because this should have been _their_ future that he planned and eagerly awaited, and instead he was stuck _so close_ to her and yet _so out of her reach_! The law forbade infidelity, which meant that he would have to wait and see whether his feelings faded with time, but – if they did – would that mean that his feelings were never real to begin? He wondered whether it could be possible to love more than one person at once, so that he could grow to love Snape in time, and – if he could – would that mean he would love one more than the other? Hell, would he always be second best to Snape? Oh God, Lily was his _mother_ . . . what would that even _mean_ for them?

“Hey, Harry, are you okay?”

“Huh? Y-yeah, I’m fine,” said Harry. He ran a hand over his face and leaned back. “I’ve just been a bit lost in thought lately. I guess it’s a good job we met in here and not in the _Three Broomsticks_ or that stupid teashop, because I just _really_ need some space! How is it that you can damned _never_ see a person, one that you _live_ with, but _still_ be driven insane by them! I keep hearing Snape about the house, sometimes we pass by or eat together, but -!”

“Hey, I get it, mate! Percy used to be the same! He’d spend _all_ this time in his room and only come out at mealtimes, but he’d still have _loads_ to complain about! You’d think he’d have _less_ to say when he saw so little of us to annoy him, but _everything_ would set him off! I could have strangled the bloody git at one point! I’m _so_ glad he’s moved out!”

“That’s a _bit_ different, Ronald,” said Hermione. “You can’t compare a relationship to your brother with one to a . . . well . . . _spouse_. That reminds me, Harry, how are you both getting on? Does it still feel strange to be engaged to our professor?”

“Oh yeah,” he muttered. “You wouldn’t believe it.”

Harry looked to Ginny and saw the sad expression she wore. It was still too soon for either of them to move on just yet, although he heard through Hermione that Ginny was beginning to flirt and look into dating, but _personally_ he still found himself clinging to the past. They truly held a relationship special and real, which he knew he would cherish until the day he died, but – then again – didn’t they always say that your first love was the most passionate and memorable? A part of him hoped that they weren’t soul mates, that he could find happiness elsewhere, and – more importantly – that _she_ could be happy elsewhere . . .

“Do you ever wonder how you know when something’s real?”

“You think you’re falling for the old bat?” Ron asked. “That’s crazy, not real.”

“No, it’s just -! I _hate_ that Ginny and I had to break up!” Harry glanced at the fading flame of the candle-stub on the table. “I always thought we would be together forever, you know? I keep wondering whether there’s a world out there where we’re still together, and – if there is – what does that mean? Doesn’t the universe have a plan for everyone? Don’t I _deserve_ to be happy with someone I love? What if I’m missing out on the person I’m meant to be with?”

“What if there isn’t a thing such as soul-mates?” Ginny asked in turn. “What if there’s just _here_ and _now_ and making the most of what we have? Harry, I _love_ you too, but I don’t want to see you _hurt_! It can’t be only us hurting, too . . . I keep thinking that Snape’s probably going through the same thing, except – worse – he knows that if he weren’t here then you would be with me. He probably feels _worse_ than the third wheel. If we keep pining for each other, how will we ever move on? We’ll just always be unhappy, when maybe . . .”

“I don’t know how Snape feels, but I know how _I_ feel. I don’t know if I’m ‘meant’ to be with someone, or whether it’s possible to love more than one person, or even if whether I could ‘move on’! I just know that – _here_ and _now_ – I love _you_. Snape says it’s just a ‘crush’, you say that we have to learn to be content elsewhere, but why does no one care what _I_ think?”

“Well, no offence,” muttered Ron, “but your way ends up in an affair.”

“I’m _not_ saying Ginny and I should have an affair!”

He leaned back as far as the chair would allow him, before he clenched hard at his hair and used the sharp pain to draw him back into the moment. The rough wood of the table snagged his sleeve, whilst the expression on Ginny’s face was impossible to decipher, as if she experienced equal parts resignation and desire. It felt far too cold in the inn, as he tried to ground himself and remind himself that he wasn’t the _only_ person suffering, and he _needed_ to consider both Ginny and Snape, even if -! He shook his head sadly.

They all looked at him, as if he might explode at any moment, and – in all honesty – he thought that he well _might_. The injustice of his situation still grated upon him, made all the worse by how Ginny sat so close to him as a reminder of all he could have, and he wondered whether he made the right choice of letting her go, even though he knew it was ultimately the best for both of them in the long run. He felt his heart race and his palms grow sweaty, as he felt his body grow somewhat numb and weak. It took all his strength to try and think about how Snape would feel, knowing that Harry continued to put Ginny first . . . _himself_ first.

“Harry,” said Hermione, “longing for something you can’t have –”

“I know . . . it’s almost like the Mirror of Erised.”

It made him smile despite himself. He knew that it would drive him to insanity to think about what could have been or what should have been, but the truth was that – when he looked at Ginny – he saw someone that symbolised everything he wanted and needed . . . she reminded him about love and family and _hope_. She sat so beautifully, with her red hair falling over her shoulders, and yet he would have to return home to Snape . . . they were getting on better than before, sure, but they still disagreed on everything fundamental to a relationship.

“Snape and I . . . I’m worried we’re not making progress.”

“Well, what do you expect?” Ron asked. “You don’t expect a guy like that to put any effort in, do you? I bet he’s just living it up. He gets a rich husband, a nice house . . . I bet it’s like his ultimate revenge! You want to watch out. He probably has something up his sleeve!”

“Grow up, Ron!” Ginny snapped. “It’s probably as hard on him as it is on us.”

“Yeah? How’d you work that one out?”

Ron raised his eyebrows with an incredulous expression. The look he gave Ginny was almost amusing, as he seemed caught between openly dismissing her and paying her proper respect, and it was probably natural when his youngest sibling was now an adult. Ron was her older brother, but it seemed like he was still getting used to the idea of her being her own person. He did love Ginny, just as he did respect her to an extent, but – maybe because he was the youngest boy himself – he felt a sort of pride in having some authority over Ginny growing up, and it was likely difficult on him to relinquish that role.

“You think he’s bothered by it?” Ron asked.

“Actually, Ron, I think he may be,” answered Hermione. “Professor Snape was _forced_ into this marriage. Do you know some of the rumours that are floating around? I’ve heard students whispering that he’s slipped Harry a love potion, others say that he’s used his connections at the Ministry to rig the list, and that’s just the _nice_ side of the slander! That’s not to mention how strange it must be to be officially engaged to a former student.

“I mean . . . we don’t even know if he’s _attracted_ to men. _Don’t pull that face, Ron!_ I know full well that it’s uncomfortable to imagine a teacher with a – well – _physical_ relationship, but the fact remains that for most people it’s a part of life. The law _dictates_ fidelity. It’s an awful lot to be married to someone that you have no attraction towards, _knowing_ you will be celibate for the foreseeable future. I can’t imagine that he would want a child either. He’s had his entire life taken from him . . . no free will . . . it must be awful to endure all that and _know_ that the person you’re tied to wants only to be with someone else. I do feel sorry for him.”

“I have to admit,” replied Harry, “I felt bad for him. He’s offered to take the potion himself, but _all_ I can think about is how he’s spent his whole life _tortured_ and _bad-mouthed_ and in _servitude_ of other people! It pissed me off when I thought _I’d_ have to go through all of that, but knowing that he would -? I don’t get how he could do that! He said it himself that it feels like a violation! I don’t know . . . I’m kind of worried that he’s doing it because he feels he has to, like he thinks he has to protect me or something. I don’t want to feel indebted to him!”

“Snape doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do,” said Ginny sharply. “It’s probably just more convenient this way or he doesn’t trust you to do it. I guess you won’t know why he’s offered to do it unless you ask him, but . . . don’t tell me why when you find out, okay? It’s – it’s so frustrating to think that there’s someone else having your child . . .”

“Crap! I’m sorry, Ginny! I didn’t even think -! This whole topic must be so weird for you! I guess I just started to feel sorry for myself . . . big birthday party later at yours, but all I can think about is how I’m _engaged_ and it’s not to _you_! It’s a lot to process.”

“Will he -?” Ginny paused to draw in a deep breath. “Will he be there?”

“No . . . he’s been avoiding everyone wherever possible.”

“That’s something at least,” muttered Ron.

They remained silent for a long moment, although Harry – along with Hermione – gave Ron a sharp look, which caused him to look between them rapidly with an expression of combined confusion and innocence. Harry could understand why Ron wouldn’t want Snape there, because – in all honesty – he was a personality that could be grating and needed time to get accustomed to, but he suffered through so much and spent so long being _hated_ by so many people, even when he strived to be good . . . the idea of purposely excluding him felt wrong, just as it felt wrong to be glad he wouldn’t attend. Snape deserved _something_ better.

“Hey, speak of the devil,” said Ron.

Harry looked across the inn and saw the main doors open. There was a flurry of dust and dirt, as the wind from outside kicked up and brought inside a draught, and he felt a sharp chill from the cold and wrapped his arms around himself out of instinct. A second later, he looked up to see Snape standing within the doorway. It sent a wave of guilt through Harry, even though he knew the older man couldn’t have heard any of their conversation, as he wondered how _lonely_ it must feel to be excluded in the past and still feel like an outsider now.

It was strange to see his previous professor standing so still, as his eyes swept across the room in search of Harry, and stranger still to realise that he would soon be _married_ to this man in a matter of _weeks_. He tried to think about whether he could – in time – be attracted to such a man, even whether he could be attracted to men in general, but it was almost impossible when Snape wore such a _furious_ expression, which was probably how he earned his reputation as the ‘ugly’ dungeon-bat. The flaws he held wouldn’t be so bad, if he could just learn to _smile_ despite it all. Harry gave a low sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

The older man then saw him clearly across the room. Snape – dressed in floor-length robes, buttoned to just below the waist – swept across the floor as best as he could in his current condition, with the hem of his cape dancing across the floor as he moved. He hid the limp in his leg rather well, although it was still somewhat noticeable, and he kept his arm wrapped within his cloak around him, as if he sought to fool people into believing it _intentional_ that he kept it up, as if to fend off the cold. He stopped only a foot from Harry at the table.

“Harry, a word,” said Snape coldly.

They simply looked at each for a long moment, as Harry felt a spark of resentment at being spoken to in such a manner before his friends, but – as he saw the anger and perhaps even self-consciousness in Snape’s eyes – he realised that this wasn’t a battle worth fighting. It took his every ounce of self-control not to push Snape on the matter, but instead he looked with great regret to his friends and nodded to them in acknowledgement, as he stood up reluctantly and walked with Snape across the room to an empty corner. The pair sat down and Harry cast a look over to Ginny. She seemed as conflicted as he felt.

“What do you think you are doing, Potter?”

“Having a few drinks with my friends before the party?” Harry replied.

“I _mean_ to ask what you are doing with that _girl_ ,” snapped Snape. “It is foolishly naïve to continue to fraternize with one that you were once within a romantic relationship, as such I _strongly_ recommend that you cease this infernal friendship at once. You are aware that we must meet with a mediator at least once a month? I _refuse_ to raise alone a child that I never wanted, all because _you_ are in Azkaban over a perceived affair!”

“You – you _can’t_ be serious! You’re doing this to be _now_ , on my _birthday_? I’m not having this discussion, Snape! I’m not letting you control my life or tell me who I can be _friends_ with! Ginny is Ron’s _sister_! I’ve known her since I was _eleven-years-old_! If it’s a case of what it _looks_ like, I’ve got Ron and Hermione there as _chaperones_!”

“I would not _need_ to have this conversation, if you didn’t _flaunt_ your relationship!”

“Okay, so is that it? Are you _jealous_ of Ginny?”

The look that Snape gave him was enough to make him regret his words. Those black eyes narrowed into almost slits, whilst the older man’s hands turned white with the pressure that he used to hold onto the table’s edge, and Harry at once knew that he crossed a line. Harry doubted jealousy was actually the issue, so much as a genuine fear that all the stress and drama and inconveniences could be for nought, especially were Harry to be imprisoned for breaking the laws, but even if it were the issue . . . his tone sounded too sarcastic. Even to his _own_ ears it sounded like he was _mocking_ Severus for his concerns.

“Perhaps I should leave,” said Snape coldly.

“No! Don’t go!”

Harry shot out a hand to grab Snape’s wrist, but – unfortunately – he made contact with the older man’s _left_ wrist, and he caught the visible flinch of pain and the whitening of Snape’s expression. It was hard to miss the way he fell back into his chair, even as he sought to disguise it as a purpose move. Harry bit his lip and tried to pretend that he hadn’t noticed. The way that Snape recomposed himself made him realise just how rough the war had been upon him, and he deserved more than to be disrespected like this.

“I didn’t mean it how it sounded,” said Harry.

“Ah, then – pray tell – how _did_ you mean it to sound, Potter?”

“I just -!” Harry leaned back and folded his arms. “It’s been ages since we moved in together, but it still feels like we’re making no real progress! I don’t _know_ what you expect, because _you won’t tell me_! We _really_ need to discuss what we _both_ want to happen, Severus! This isn’t going away and -! I _love_ Ginny . . . I’m starting to wish that I didn’t, because it would make things so much easier and it would hurt so much less, but I _do_. I know none of this is fair on you . . . I know you don’t want children, I know you don’t love me . . .

“I guess I’ve started to think about how this might be affecting you, you know? I’ve seen the way you lock yourself away when my friends visit, or how you refuse to attend events like today, and I keep hearing you walking around at night . . . I’m scared to ask whether you’re having nightmares too, because I never know how you’ll react. I guess I want to find a common ground, maybe so we can be more civil together, because I _know_ it seems like I’ve been putting you last and like I don’t care about you, but -! I always thought – if I had a second son – I’d name him ‘Albus Severus’, because I wanted to honour you . . . you’re a brave man and a good man and I -! I just don’t know what to _do_ , Snape!”

“I would recommend – first of all – considering a different name,” murmured Snape. “I dread to consider what you expect our first child to be named, but – nevertheless – we can discuss such things later. I appreciate your consideration upon my feelings, but my dislike of your relationship with Ginny runs more on practicalities. I was forced into this upcoming marriage and into fatherhood, but I _resent_ the fact that I could be forced to raise this child alone.”

“I – I _swear_ it’s just platonic between us! It’s difficult, because we’re both still processing the break-up and trying to move up, but -! I won’t stop being her friend, but – if it makes you feel better – you can chaperone us yourself! If it bothers you that much, you can join us.”

“And interrupt your little double-date? I do not wish to be the fifth wheel.”

“I can’t believe it! You really _are_ -!”

“Don’t you _dare_ say it.”

Snape gave him that same dark look as before, as he stood as straight as he could manage. He pushed back a stray lock of black hair, which somehow made him look both more human and more intimidating, and then let out a low hiss of air. A second later, he reached underneath his cape and to a hidden pocket of his robe, before he pulled out a small box-shaped object that was wrapped in brown paper and taped closed. He practically threw it onto the table, where it landed a few inches from Harry’s hands, and then gave a trademark sneer.

“Here,” snapped Snape. “Happy Birthday, _Potter_.”

It was then that Snape turned and left. Harry barely registered the fact that he was leaving, before the door to the inn was opened and Snape was out of sight. The draught that entered chilled him to the bone, especially with the close proximity to the door, and he realised that people were staring at them both. He saw Ginny look to him with great sympathy, whilst Hermione and Ron both appeared worried, and he saw that they were preparing to get up – as they gathered their drinks – to come over to him. He looked down at the box . . .

He opened the paper – perfectly wrapped – and saw beneath a leather box. It was almost warm to the touch, although that may have simply been from its close proximity to Severus’ body, and the gold trim to the box gave it a rather elegant touch. He opened it carefully, not knowing quite to expect, until he saw the contents . . . a silver locket, rather plain and without any decoration, and something he couldn’t imagine Snape appreciating or wanting to give. It took him a moment to realise that he could _open_ the locket, as memories of the Horcrux came back to him, but – as he looked inside – he felt his heart break.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Hermione slid into the seat opposite him, as Ginny and Ron pulled up a couple of chairs, but he couldn’t quite look at them, not when he couldn’t take his eyes away from the rather beautiful photograph and lock of hair inside the locket. It was a photograph of his mother, with what looked like a piece of her hair, and he suddenly felt closer to her than he remembered feeling in some time. He said with a sincere smile:

“It’s a peace-offering . . .”

 

 


	8. Chapter Eight

# Chapter Eight

“Hey, you look – er – good . . .”

Harry gave a blush and scratched his neck. It felt embarrassing to compliment Snape in such a way, especially when they held such a complex history together, but they were going to be _married_ in little over an hour. He did want to move forward, to be more civil and reach a common ground, but there was also something rather awkward about praising the other man’s appearance, to the extent he felt a spark of vulnerability and felt exposed, as he awaited a response that could potentially be rather cold or sarcastic. It made him wish he hadn’t spoken.

The Burrow felt somewhat unnaturally quiet, but that was probably to be expected. Mr and Mrs Weasley waited outside under an arch of flowers, where the ceremony official chatted kindly with them to pass time, whilst Hermione and Ron sat on one of the benches together with Teddy, and – as for everyone else – they were away at Severus’ request. Harry still wasn’t sure whether his soon-to-be husband felt self-conscious with the idea of many eyes upon him, or if he felt they would judge him cruelly, or even if he just didn’t feel like celebrating the loss of his freedom, but Harry couldn’t begrudge him the one request. It wasn’t exactly a dream wedding, but it was hardly a dream scenario in general.

It felt strange to stand in the kitchen of the Weasley home, as Severus sat at the table and buttoned the cuffs of his dress robes, and there was a sense of intimacy that was still hard to get used to, but one he knew he would need to accept. They would probably spend many times alone together in the future, especially with raising a child, and so this would likely grow to be the norm over time. He fingered the locket about his neck for a sense of security. The whole day felt so surreal, but the locket made him feel closer to his mother, which in turn gave him a feeling of peace, as if she were somehow watching over him . . .

“I mean it, Snape . . . _Severus_.”

The older man rolled his eyes at the sentiment. It was enough to cause Harry to draw in a deep breath and clench his fists, but he calmed himself _knowing_ that – as hard it was for him – it would be _ten-times_ as hard for Snape. He could see that Severus actually looked far paler than he usually appeared, whilst he rarely made eye-contact and sat at an angle upon his chair, and occasionally he would even try to push back a lock of hair that wasn’t there, likely out of a nervous habit. He looked handsome, but nervous.

“Your transparent attempts at civility are insincere,” said Snape.

“You insulting me just to hide the fact you’re scared is also kind of transparent.”

Harry let out a harsh hiss of breath, as Snape spun around in his chair to face him, although he looked somewhat less intimidating out of his work-robes. He _did_ look somewhat attractive, that much was true, although a part of Harry could only think about how _Ginny_ would look in his place . . . dressed in white, looking so beautiful . . . he shook his head to clear the thoughts away. He needed to remember what she said: live in the moment. He wasn’t marrying Ginny, so he needed to find happiness where he could, even if -!

It was probably not a good move to call Snape out. He _knew_ the older man hated to be proven wrong or to be criticised in any way, but the words slipped out before he could prevent them and instead reassure Snape that he was being sincere. The emerald green of Snape’s shirt only served to make him look all the whiter in the face, where Harry caught a glimpse of dark bags beneath the eyes and noticed how Snape seemed substantially thinner than he previously noticed, and yet the black robes over his clothing fitted him perfectly and looked rather fashionable. He never expected Snape to have such good taste in clothing, which made him wonder whether someone helped him in some way, but it would probably be insulting to ask. Instead he strove to remain calm, as Snape slowly stood with fists upon the tabletop.

“I am _not_ ‘scared’, Potter,” snapped Snape. “Do _not_ insult me.”

“It’s not an insult,” replied Harry. “I – I’m _scared_ , too, Severus! I keep -! I keep thinking that this is it . . . it’s _final_! The _second_ we stand up there and say ‘yes’, that will be it! I’ve never felt so _trapped_ in my life! I just want to _run_! It’s like there’s this weight on me, like the world’s closing in, and I don’t know what to do! I never pictured my life like this. What if we can’t get on? What if we never grow any closer? What if I never find love again . . .?”

“It sounds like you’re suffering with a case of anxiety. This would be quite normal to experience before one’s wedding, but – in your case – I think the feelings would naturally be more pronounced, due to the circumstances in which the relationship has occurred. I would go so far as to say that a sense of claustrophobia is natural when one is forced to wed.”

“Doesn’t that _bother_ you, though? You’ve been so _calm_ about this the whole time! I _know_ it must be driving you mad inside! I’ve fought this over and over, but they’re still making us -! You’re right . . . it’s a violation. It feels _wrong_ , because I should have a _choice_.”

“You had a choice. You chose your partner.”

“Even that wasn’t a choice . . .”

Severus gave a slight snort of derision, before he stood straight and adjusted his dress robes in a rather awkward manner. It was easy to admit that the formal clothing was somewhat uncomfortable, but strange to see Severus fussing about almost like a normal person, and strange still to see his black hair pulled back with a green ribbon. It gave him the unfortunate affect of making his hair look like two curtains pulled back, although a lot less greasy than it sometimes appeared, and yet – in a weird way – it did suit him out of his face.

“May I ask you a personal question, Harry?”

“Well, we’re about to get married,” muttered Harry. “Shoot.”

“How do you identify in terms of your sexuality?”

It was a question that caused Harry to blush and step back. He folded his arms over his chest and reminded himself that they were going to have a _child_ together, which meant – at some point – they would _need_ to talk to each other and open up emotionally. This was a bad situation, but it would only be made worse by taking offence and acting out at Severus, and so he tried to still his racing heart and concentrated on the sounds outside. He could hear Teddy crying from afar, which made his heart break and nearly brought him running outside, but he fought the urge and ran a hand through his hair in a needed distraction.

“I never really thought about it,” admitted Harry.

“I would suppose that – in itself – would be cause for some of the anxiety,” muttered Severus. “The decrees stipulate absolute fidelity, as you are aware, which means – should you ever seek a physical release – there are only two options open to you. We can either act alone or act together, but I sincerely doubt that either is all too appealing to a young man of your age . . . I am hardly to your liking.”

“It isn’t that, honestly. I have to admit . . . I’ve never really thought of you in that light, but you _were_ a total asshole during classes! It’s hard to think of someone so _vicious_ as anything close to attractive, even if it turned out there was more to it, and now everything is so _complicated_! I’ve been too busy thinking about how you were with my parents, about how you’re twice my age, about how -! How this – this feels kind of like cheating on Ginny, you know? I want to move on; I _really_ want to move on, but this still feels _weird_.”

He stopped to draw in a deep breath. It was only _after_ he spoke that he realised how it sounded, so that Severus must have thought the worst about Harry’s feelings, but – in truth – he didn’t hate the older man or felt any resentment . . . he simply felt _confused_. There was just so much to consider about the situation, whilst his still felt so many conflicting things, and he felt lost and broken and violated. He shrugged and looked sheepishly to the floor.

“I would like to speak to you with honesty,” said Severus.

“Er, sure, go ahead,” replied Harry. “I’m just glad to _finally_ be able to talk to you.”

“In that case, allow me to speak my mind: you are dwelling in the past. It is no way to live, and – whilst I am _loath_ to have this talk with you – I understand that there are perhaps few other adults that are in a position to advise you on such an issue. If you continue to cling to hypothetical scenarios, whilst loving the idea of love and not understanding the deeper practicalities involved, and if you search for love in external places . . .

“No good comes from living in a dream and longing for the unattainable. In adulthood we must choose our battles, learning to make our own happiness, for by living in the past you blind yourself to other possibilities and become inactive in your search for something better. I once loved your mother Lily . . . I will readily admit that I still hold her dear to my heart, even if such a love was one-sided and not meant to be, and I know – had it been reciprocated – it would not have worked and been fraught with difficulties. I believe I loved her for what she represented, rather than for the woman that she truly was, but the fault was my own.

“It is difficult for me to be attracted to those with whom I lack an emotional connection,” admitted Snape, “but my position as a triple agent did not allow for emotional connections to be made with those around me, and so I have lived a life without many romances. You should learn from my mistakes, Harry. It is possible for you to love again, just as I have found that the pain eased over time and I was able to see my love for what it was, and perhaps – for both of us – we will one day find a love equal and reciprocated, but not if you look to the past.”

Harry paused to process the information, as he felt reminded of the Snape he used to know during lessons and at his best . . . a part of Snape rarely seen and almost frightening for how unusual it was to experience. The older man was never the best teacher, instead expecting his students to simply _know_ things out of the presumed belief they were ‘common knowledge’ and impatient to an insane degree, but there were times where he would lose himself in the passion of his given subject and somehow express that through his speech. It was just strange that _this_ was something Snape felt important enough to discuss in such a way.

There was a part of him that felt suspicious, as he was unable to let go of the _years_ of ridicule and bullying from Severus, where he just _waited_ for something to be said that would hurt him or insult him. It didn’t come, but then the war changed them both. He _wanted_ to believe that Severus was growing into a better person, that maybe he _could_ trust the older man, but there was just so much baggage between them . . . at the very least, they _would_ soon be married. He had to at least try to improve their relationship. They would be together for a long time.

“Where would we find that love?” Harry asked. “With each other?”

Severus rolled his eyes and gave a sharp scoff. It was enough to make Harry realise that some things just wouldn’t change, or – at least – they wouldn’t change so easily, and he shook his head with an angry smile and turned his back on Severus, as he began to pace just slightly back and forth. It wasn’t until he stopped, as he sought to demand some sort of apology or – more realistically – for some _acknowledgement_ of his question, that Severus marched towards him and pointed a finger just an inch from his face. It took every ounce of his self-control not to slap it out of the way and to tell Severus where he could shove it.

“I will not dignify that with a response,” Severus said coldly.

“You’re also not answering the question,” replied Harry. “If we have to be faithful, it’s _really_ going to narrow down our chances to find love elsewhere, and – well – I don’t know whether we _can_ love each other. I get what you’re saying though . . . I do want to move on . . .”

“If we can form a tentative friendship, perhaps we can learn from one another.”

“Yeah, I guess, but I never thought we’d ever be friends.”

“I will admit it was beyond my imagination.”

They stood together in an awkward silence. There was the scent of a freshly baked cake that stood nearby, as well as hot meats and various appetizers, and – in all honesty – it felt something close to overkill. He wondered how he would be able to look Mr and Mrs Weasley in the eyes, just as he wondered what Hermione and Ron would think of him, but he knew _rationally_ that they wouldn’t judge him . . . even if he felt in his heart otherwise. It hardly felt a cause for a celebration after, but this may well be the only wedding they ever had, and – as such – he felt a need to at least make it a good one, if only for Snape’s sake.

“You do look handsome, though,” said Harry.

Severus rolled his eyes again, before he walked to the nearest window. It seemed as if he were lost for a moment, or – knowing Snape as he did – likely turning his back upon Harry to end the conversation, but it became apparent that he was actually watching something else, something that made Harry’s stomach churn. He was watching Hermione play with Teddy, as they sat together on the bench before the archway outside, and likely he held the same thoughts that Harry did . . . soon they would have a child of their own, too.

“I do not believe you,” snapped Severus.

“Okay, well, would you believe me that I like the robes?”

“That . . . I could believe. The robes are not a reflection upon the one wearing them.”

Harry gave a short laugh. It was hard to tell whether Severus was joking or serious, but he chose to assume it was the former for the sake of his sanity. There was just something rather depressing about marrying a man that couldn’t accept a compliment, that assumed any kind word about his appearance was a lie, and he wondered how deep Severus’ issues ran and whether they were they all this time. Did Severus always feel this way? Harry always assumed him something of a villain growing up, but it seemed he held a human side after all.

“It is time we began the ceremony,” said Severus sadly.

It was then that Severus turned and walked away, so that he left Harry standing alone in the kitchen and looking out at the those people closest to him, and _knowing_ that – in a few moments – his future and choices would be ripped from him, as he would be tied to Severus for a _lifetime_. He saw Arthur Weasley spot Severus from the archway, which looked more and more intimidating as Harry gazed upon it, and he saw how everyone began to sit properly upon the benches, whilst Arthur and Severus shook hands and Severus walked forwards.

The limp in Severus’ side was barely noticeable, although he likely strove to hide it as best as possible in view of the four other adults, and Mr and Mrs Weasley sat on the left bench with hands held together in an almost romantic fashion, whilst Hermione and Ron sat on the other side with Teddy between them, although – as expected – Teddy seemed to refuse to settle and looked around for Harry. It made Harry smile, even as he realised that they were all waiting for him and only him. The ceremony official stood under the archway, whilst Severus tried to look as intimidating as possible beside him, and the official looked so small and held such mussed-hair . . . Harry kind of expected more from such a man.

There was only so long Harry could delay the inevitable.

He walked outside and saw his friends turn their heads to look at him. Ron gave a half-smile with an indecipherable expression, whilst Hermione gestured to her mouth and then her hair, which – after a second – Harry realised was a sign that he needed to smooth down a stray lock of hair from his face. He did so with a small blush, even as he saw Severus roll his eyes at the act. What followed was almost a blur . . . standing at the altar, listening to the singsong voice discuss the importance of their vows, hearing himself speak in a voice that trembled with fear as he repeated the words . . . then – suddenly – there was an awkward applause.

 _They were married_.

The world seemed to fade around him. He felt his heart race and his mouth run dry, whilst Severus’ face before him appeared blurred and distorted, and – for a moment – he was sure he saw an expression of concern upon the other man’s – no, his _husband’s_ – face. There was the sound of clapping, merged with the sound of the official’s congratulations . . . he heard himself breathing, sharp and short breaths, and he felt so impossibly _hot_. It couldn’t be normal to feel so dizzy, so weak, so –

 _‘Harry! Dear, are you okay? Harry_?’

It was strange to wake up in the living room. He felt disorientated and confused, especially when he felt Mrs Weasley mopping his brow and Severus reaching out to hand Arthur a potion, and – in a few more seconds – he felt something against his lips and swallowed it down. The taste was _vile_ , but it was unlikely Snape carried potions around with him, so it was probably a standard or out-of-date potion from the Weasley medical cabinet. He was eventually allowed to sit up, whilst Ron waved a camera at him from across the room and joked about getting ‘a good one of you hitting the floor’. Hermione rolled her eyes next to him, as Teddy jostled and mewled and tried to get down from her hold.

He sat up, although he felt a little woozy and shook a little, and he heard Mrs Weasley mutter something like ‘easy, easy’ and hands hold onto his upper arms. A few moments later and he caught his bearings. Hermione came and sat closer to him upon the sofa, where Teddy crawled over onto his lap, and he found himself smile and pulled the small boy into a warm hug, whilst Ron sat on the arm of the chair next to him. Mrs Weasley at once began to potter back-and-forth, whilst Mr Weasley stood beside Snape with a nervous smile.

“Blimey, Harry,” said Mr Weasley. “I’ve _never_ seen anyone act quite like that!”

“Indeed,” replied Severus. “It’s almost as if he doesn’t _wish_ to be married.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have put it in those words. Feeling better, Harry?”

Harry looked around in confusion, barely able to keep up with the words, until he saw Teddy bounce happily on his lap and smiled once more. He looked up to see how uncomfortable Severus seemed, as well as how worried about the situation at hand, and he remembered – albeit briefly and in a blur – Severus catching him as he fell at the altar. It was embarrassing to think that he _fainted_ , especially when he considered how much he endured during the war and how much he suffered . . . _this_ was his breaking point? He felt mortified.

“I – er – feel a little dizzy still,” he said.

“Don’t worry! I have you a glass of water,” came Mrs Weasley’s voice. He suddenly felt the cold press of moist glass in his hand. “There you are, dear! I was going to pop the champagne for the toast, before everyone arrives for the reception, but the last thing you need right now is alcohol in your system. You just get that down you and sit still for a while. I don’t think we’re expecting any guests for an hour or so, at the least.”

“I – I didn’t think we were having a big reception? I mean Severus didn’t want much of a fuss, and I can’t say I really feel up to seeing everyone . . . it’s – it’s not going to be _too_ big of a crowd, is it? Not that I’m not grateful at all! It’s just that I never really expected -!”

“Just the Weasley clan, Harry,” said Arthur. “As well as a few from the Order.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, I guess . . .”

He swallowed hard and gulped down the water, as he rested a hand on Teddy’s back to keep the boy from tumbling backwards. It was nice to be close to his godson, as well as to be surrounded by those that were like family to him, but he felt somewhat claustrophobic and caught on display. Molly took the glass from his hand, as he looked over Teddy’s head towards Severus. He wasn’t sure whether Severus could get the hint, but – luckily – the older man was a lot more observant than Harry could ever be, and he stepped forward.

“May I speak to my husband alone?” Severus asked.

“Of course,” chirped Mrs Weasley. “We’ll get out of your hair. Come along now, everyone!”

The room seemed to vacate pretty quickly, but – then again – Molly was ushering everyone out as if it were somehow of great importance, so that Harry was left to wonder whether this was some sort of ‘wedding etiquette’, because it felt strange to be so fussed over and have every request catered to, enough it disorientated him. He was left with Teddy on his lap, who contented himself with pulling at the lapels of Harry’s dress-robes, and he was forced to smile when he saw his godson pulling himself up slightly to gnaw on the end of one.

Severus walked over slowly. The limp was slightly more pronounced now they were alone, but he paused midway to pick up a teething ring from a nearby table, although he gave a subtle wince as he bent down to retrieve it. There was a curious expression from Teddy, who looked both confused and very curious. In a matter of seconds the young boy let go of the lapel and began reaching out for the ring, which would hopefully be more beneficial to the erupting canine teeth than soggy material, and Severus handed it to him with a cold expression of disinterest. Teddy snatched it from him with a loud laugh and gurgle.

“So . . . married, huh?” Harry asked, as he bounced Teddy.

“Eloquent as always, I see,” murmured Severus.

There was an awkward silence between them, which was disturbed only by the attempts of Teddy to talk around the teething ring, and occasionally sounds of laughter would erupt from a room nearby as the other strove to celebrate. It was beginning to feel that this attempt at making the best of a bad situation was simply denial, but there was something comforting about forgetting the reality of it all. He saw Severus reach out as if to touch Teddy, before he wrenched his arm away with a heavy sigh and shake of his head. It was as if he were afraid of touching the boy. That couldn’t be right, as Severus wasn’t afraid of anything.

“I’m afraid I will be unable to stay for the reception,” said Severus.

“Look, I know we’ve not got off to a good start, plus – to be honest – I probably want to see Ginny about as much as you do right now . . . I – I still care about her, but it’d just be too weird to see her after this. Still, we’re partners now, right? So my family is your family?”

“As wonderfully saccharine as that sentiment is, I must say that my reasons for leaving expand far past the simple disinterest in social activities with such persons. The potion is at a crucial stage of its brewing process, as such I must observe its progress and add a sample of my DNA to the mixture, and – as you know – the sample must be . . . _fresh_. All in all, it is important that I leave now . . . unless you wish to conceive using the old-fashioned method.”

Harry gave a wince despite himself. It was something he instantly regretted, because he knew that Severus would take it as a personal insult, as if the issue were Severus’ appearance or personality, but the idea of being _forced_ to be intimate with someone that he still felt no attraction towards -? It was pretty terrifying. He couldn’t imagine being seen at his most vulnerable, or doing things that he only ever associated with love and complete trust, and he couldn’t bring himself to picture how Severus would look or act or -! He shook his head. Severus was right, it was _very_ important to see to the potion, but still . . .

“It is our wedding night,” he muttered.

Severus gave a sharp snort, before he looked down with a rather patronising expression, and Harry at once tightened his hold upon Teddy to calm down, especially when he could see how the older man raised an eyebrow in disbelief and narrowed his eyes darkly. It was enough to make Harry blush and look away, as he knew what Severus must have been thinking and how it must have sounded, and it annoyed him to think that Severus _would_ assume he would ever mean something like that. He bit his lip to hold in his anger.

“Not like that!” Harry snapped. “That’s not what I meant!”

“I am aware, but the connotation lingers. I am afraid the potion is necessary.”

“Yeah, I know . . . look, I know today was just a necessity and all, but -! This is probably the _only_ wedding either of us will get, so I figured we might as well make the most of it . . . it just seems kind of – I don’t know – _lonely_ to spend it making a potion. Do you want company?”

“You would only provide an unnecessary distraction, Harry.”

“Right, well, that’s that then.”

They shared a quiet moment together, until Harry felt sure that he could hear a new voice in the distance, which was followed by the sound of a door closing and sounds of further laughter, and he was certain that the first of the guests were arriving. It wouldn’t be fair to drag this conversation out longer than necessary, as Severus would wish to avoid seeing the majority of people and wouldn’t want to endure the false congratulations and many handshakes, as if the illusion that this were their choice could still be maintained.

Harry stood up carefully, as he pulled the squirming boy up enough that he could rest him on his left hip and arm alone, with the right hand there solely for balance and security, and – as he looked down at Teddy – he realised that soon he would probably have a child of his own, one that would be almost like a little brother to his godson. It made him feel somewhat faint again, but – when he looked to Severus – he could see that his new husband didn’t appear any more comfortable with their situation. Severus stared at Teddy with an almost indecipherable gaze, before he looked to Harry with a slightly softer expression, as he nodded deeply and prepared to leave. The potion would probably be finished very soon.

“Thank you for your consideration,” said Severus.

“It’s nothing,” replied Harry.


	9. Chapter Nine

# Chapter Nine

“Are you sure it's ready?”

Harry looked into the cauldron. It was hard not to curl his lip at the sight, as he felt his nostrils flare and his eyes narrow in disgust, and – frankly – he felt _beyond_ relieved that he wouldn’t be the one to drink such a substance. The mixture looked thick as tar, but with a shade of black that looked almost impossible to imagine, so that he felt reminded of the sky at night and memories of looking up into the stars with Sirius . . . it was an oddly nostalgic feeling, but mixed with a scent that he hoped never to smell again.

There was a rather unnatural swirl of silver running throughout the potion, which made his stomach roll and his throat clench, as he thought back to the samples that each man was required to submit for the potion to work. It only made the idea of drinking it even worse. He couldn’t imagine that _anyone_ could imbibe such a cocktail of ingredients and bodily fluids without feeling intensely nauseous, and the smell of the potion was coppery like blood. That wasn’t an ingredient, was it? He felt weak. The memories of Severus bleeding out in the Shrieking Shack came back full force . . . Cedric’s body . . . Dobby’s last words . . . 

He looked up to see Severus reaching out for a vial with his right hand, before he carefully – relying mostly on his good hand – managed to pour a substantial amount into the small glass, as a small amount of steam followed and many droplets appeared on the outside of the vial. The laboratory felt uncomfortably humid and enclosed, whilst he thought back to the wedding and reception just last night, and – as he drew in a deep breath – he caught the raised eyebrow and dark glare that Severus sent his way. The older man looked offended.

“Do you doubt my skills?” Severus asked.

“It’s not that,” said Harry. “It’s just I _really_ doubt it’s a potion that’s in high demand, because – even in the wizarding world – same-sex couples aren’t that common, right? Plus, I’d guess most people adopt or use a surrogate when they can’t conceive. Is it _meant_ to smell that bad?”

“I will admit that I have never made such a potion before, but I have consulted many leading experts in the field and followed the instructions as close as they ought to be followed, and I am fully confident that I have succeeded in my endeavour. The smell is quite normal. It is said that the taste, however, is similar to the scent of Amortentia in that it varies according to the preferences of the person that ingests the potion.  Let us see if that is true.”

Severus lifted the vial high into the light. It sparkled almost beautifully, so that it cast a rainbow of shattered light upon the table and reflected from Harry’s glasses, and the liquid – for an instant – almost appeared entirely silver rather than black. There was a moment where Severus’ expression looked almost serene, but he was also pure white and there was a small tremble to his hand. It was clear that he was reluctant to take the potion, and – as he raised the rim to his lips – he simply held the vial steady and drew in a deep breath, unable to apparently down the potion as necessary. Harry felt his heart break for him.

“Are you _sure_ you want to take it?”

“It is too late for that discussion now,” said Severus.

He downed the potion and slammed the vial upon the desk. It made Harry sigh to see such a sight, because it felt as if it meant nothing to Severus for a moment, except he knew that this was simply a matter of ‘now or never’. The potion needed to be consumed immediately for best effect, whilst there was every chance of second-guessing their decision should they overanalyse it and discuss it further. The law _required_ an ‘heir’, which meant that they _couldn’t_ hesitate or refuse the necessary ‘procreation’, and there really was no other way.

It was difficult not to look down at Severus’ stomach, even though he knew – behind the layers of black material – that there was no physical way for the potion to have taken effect yet, or at least to the extent that the stomach would begin to show, and he looked away partly out of embarrassment. Severus took a seat opposite him at the table, as he waved a hand to cast a spell to send the equipment and leftover potion away, before he placed an elbow on the tabletop and rested his chin upon his hand, as if he were lost in thought. Harry gave a nervous smile and tried to lighten the mood with some casual conversation.

“How did it taste?” Harry asked.

“Strangely reminiscent of firewhiskey and somehow treacle tart,” replied Severus. “I will see a healer within a few weeks, which will reveal whether the potion has worked, but we must mentally prepare ourselves for the prospect of its failure . . . I will endeavour to do all I can in the meantime to ensure its success. There are potions that can aid the potential foetus, as well to maintain my health during this period, but I suggest – should this be a success – we wait until the third month to reveal to anyone other than the Ministry of the news.”

“I – I guess that makes sense . . . Hermione said the first trimester is the most risky. Still, I _could_ have been the one to take the potion! I know we’ve never gotten on in the past, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate all you did for me, including all the things I didn’t know about or took for granted. You – you never really had a life of your own to live, and now -?”

“Now nothing has changed. I must say that this is far from what I envisioned for my future, whilst a part of me hoped that the Snape line would die with me, but I have rarely – even in my worst moments – have sought to end things before their time. I have always lived to redeem myself and make amends, and – whilst I shall admit that my death would have been welcomed on that day – I somewhat believe this is karma for my past.”

Harry felt somewhat sick to his stomach. The idea of Snape carrying their child made him feel guilty enough, as he knew that the older man was hardly in the pinnacle of health, but he knew that Severus was right . . . it was the more convenient option. Still, he wondered whether he should have _insisted_ on carrying the child himself. It wasn’t right that someone _forced_ into marriage should have to carry an unwanted child, and now he could finally see _why_ Severus was so resigned to the decision, but how could they bring a child into a relationship like that? What if the child sensed that Snape thought they were a _punishment_?

“You think this is some sort of karmic punishment?”

“Don’t you, Harry?” Severus asked. “Tell me, do _you_ think it’s fair to have your very reproductive choices stolen from you? You’re the hero of our world. You saved our people from the Dark Lord himself, but do you deserve this as your reward?”

“I – I’m not going to lie. This _isn’t_ how I wanted things to go, either, but I’ve always wanted a family and children were always so important to me . . . _I_ was the one that chose you from the list, so it’s only fair that _I_ should have been the one to take the potion. Oh God, how are we even going to _do_ this? I mean . . . what kind of co-parents can we be? The child never _asked_ to be brought into a loveless marriage, Severus! It’s bad enough that they’ll have to know that this was all forced, but for you to think of them as a _burden_ -?”

“A burden is what they damned well are, Potter!” Snape slapped his hand down. “I should have _died_ that day, but sheer luck alone kept me alive! I was never _meant_ to be dragged into this mess of yours! I never wanted a child, let alone to have my body _stolen_ from me to carry this parasite! You want a career, whereas I wish to run a home business. It was simply more practical for me to carry this thing, nothing more nor less!”

“Our child is _not_ a thing! Don’t you _dare_ ever call them a ‘parasite’ again! I _knew_ I should have been the one to carry them, I _knew_ it! It was bad enough that you put your health _and_ theirs at risk when you’re still recovering, but now you think of them as – what – just a chore you have to put up with to make amends . . . to protect me . . . to fulfil a promise?”

“The promises I made were to the dead. I long have since kept my end of such bargains and more, but – yes – I would seek to protect you from such an inconvenience as pregnancy, as well as the pain of birth. I was once your teacher, now your husband!”

“You’re missing the _point_ , Severus! You don’t _get_ it!”

“Then enlighten me, Potter!”

Harry pushed himself away from the desk. He used the distance to look down at the floor, where he strove to control his anger and confusion, but – as he rested his foot upon the bar of the stool – he saw a drop of the potion upon the stone floor. It stood as a dark reminder of how real this was, as well as how this potion – this _child_ – would be forever between them, and he wondered how he could make Severus understand just how important this was to him . . . to _them_. He wondered whether it was wrong to want to be an _equal_ to Snape.

The older man never chose to be married, but there was something frustrating about not being seen as a friend or partner. It was true from a practical standpoint that it made more sense for Severus to take the potion, what with their career paths being what they were, but Severus was still _injured_! He always knew that his husband was a stubborn man, but only now did he realise the sheer extent. They were going to raise a child together, one that would be a part of both of them, and Harry -? He could already picture how the nursery would look, what his or her first words would be . . . it was impossible to understand how anyone could view a child as a burden. He wanted to ask, but Severus would probably dismiss the question.

It was then that he looked to Severus and saw the coldness upon the other man’s face, as well as how he clenched his hand into a tight fist, and it was clear that he was conflicted – perhaps even worried – by the pregnancy ahead and inevitable child. The fear was that this was all just a part of a process, something done out of obligation alone, and he could understand that to an extent, but . . . he didn’t want his _child_ raised to think it was nothing more than an unwanted obstacle to overcome! It didn’t matter what issues there were between the two of them, because the child was _innocent_ in all of this. He let out a shuddered sigh.

“I don’t want my child raised to _hate_ itself,” snapped Harry.

Severus gave a sigh in turn, before he turned to face Harry properly. It was strange to see him lean forward, although the sight of his black hair falling in front of his face was a familiar sight, and it was oddly both intimate and intimidating at once. Harry felt a stab of guilt, as he saw the darkness behind those eyes and realised he caused offence, but this was such a _major_ issue that needed to be resolved, so much so that he wondered how Severus could be offended when _he_ was the one that decided their child was somehow worthless.

“You forget my past,” said Severs coldly.

“Yeah? Well, maybe I do,” muttered Harry. “It’s kind of hard when you’re so bloody stubborn! I _want_ to understand you, _honestly_ , but you make it so damned hard! You don’t tell me anything, but just expect me to _know_. Well, I _don’t_ know . . . I _want_ to know, though. This – this is difficult for me . . . I want us to be equal partners, but I don’t know _how_.”

“Then know this: I did not have an easy childhood. I can say now – without fear of the Dark Lord seeing into my mind – that I can appreciate the difficulties of your childhood in turn, and hope that you can use this to perhaps sense the sincerity of what I am about to say. _I would not wish such a childhood upon anyone_. I may not want this –” Severus paused to search for an alternative word for ‘creature’ “– _child_ , but I would never cause it harm.”

Harry winced and looked down. He clenched his hands between his legs, as he gnawed nervously at his lip and tried to ignore the lingering scent of the potion, but it was difficult to process what Severus said. The words lingered between them, until he could hear only the heavy breathing of his husband and his heart pulsing in his ears, and soon he realised that Severus awaited a response. The fact was he never thought Severus would physically hurt or neglect their child, but he knew from experience emotional damage could be just as bad.

It was probably difficult for Severus to open up; it felt so small to Harry, but then there were times of his life that he _still_ couldn’t discuss, even with his closest friends, and so he recognised – that for someone like Severus – what seemed like a small step was probably a large concession. He drew in a deep breath and tried to calm himself. They _needed_ to make progress, but that would never come should he argue back. He looked up to see that Severus appeared on the verge of moving, as his muscles looked tense and his body became rigid, and he _knew_ that stance . . . it was the stance he took when he was about to lash out or storm away. Harry decided to speak before Severus misinterpreted his silence.

“I can get that,” said Harry quietly. “I mean . . . I can’t imagine what it was like for you, but what I saw was bad enough. I just – I just never had parents, and my aunt and uncle were horrible to me, so I _swore_ I would always be the best parent I could be, when the time came. I can understand that you don’t want to be like your parents, especially your dad, and – I don’t know – maybe that’s part of why you never wanted children, but . . . you were _horrible_ to us at school, you know that. You made Hermione _cry_ by making fun of her teeth, so -!”

“So how do you know I won’t be as cruel to our child? I shall not lie, Harry, because it is something that I fear, but I would not purposely allow our child to be raised to hate itself. I have spoken to Minerva about possibly resuming my teaching position over time, making this merely a sabbatical . . . I would prefer to keep an eye over my child. I would not wish for them to endure such bullying. Nevertheless, _you_ shall be their primary caregiver.”

“I have to work at some point, plus you said you’d watch them whilst I worked.” Harry paused to run a hand over his face. “Won’t they pick up on how you feel? How are you going to interact with them? Will you even spend time with them once I’m back home?”

“I cannot predict the future, Harry. Is it possible I may grow to love them? Certainly.”

“It just feels so weird . . . I think I’m already in love with them.”

Harry felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. It was a strange thing to admit, because this child would be a part of _Severus_ too. He never in his life even thought about Severus as a father, let alone as a father to _his_ child, and yet he couldn’t hold it against their son or daughter, even though he knew he would see a part of Severus in them. It made him wonder how Severus could spend so long judging him by his father, unable to separate the two simply due to looks, because a child was just so _innocent_. He heard Severus sigh loudly.

“You have always wanted a family,” said Severus.

It made him smile sadly to hear Severus say that. It was true that he always dreamt of a family, so much so that he couldn’t quite bring himself to completely hate the situation, because – as much as he _loathed_ being forced into marriage – he knew that it wasn’t the child’s fault. A dark part of him wondered whether he was in love with the idea of love, in love with the idea of a family, and perhaps that was true, but the way that Severus spoke so slowly and coldly . . . it was clear he felt differently. There was a sense of longing in the older man’s tone, but also a bitterness that was hard to ignore. Severus glared at a far corner.

“You never thought you’d have one,” added Harry in realisation.

“No, I didn’t,” said Severus sadly. “I do feel conflicted about our situation. It is difficult to say how I feel about the prospect, as I have never once given any consideration to the idea that having a child could even be possible. I ask that you give me time, Harry.”

“I – I can do that . . . I really am sorry, you know? I mean, I never thought about how this might impact you and I should have . . . it just _scares_ me that we have this child on its way, but we could end up making the same mistakes as -! I know you’ll be a good dad, but I guess I’m just scared you’ll be an absent dad. I’ve been having nightmares ever since the war, but now they’re . . . different. I keep dreaming that we’ll lose them.”

“Tell me about your nightmares,” said Severus.

Harry looked over to Severus with suspicion. It was hard not to think back to how Severus mocked and questioned his memories during old lessons, just as it was hard not to remember how Severus made such wild assumptions about his life and past, but he tried to remind himself that things were different now. The war was over and they both knew the truth. If it weren’t for Severus, they may have even lost the war. He could see the somewhat stern expression that Severus wore, but also what may have been genuine interest.

It was enough to make Harry look over Severus in search of maybe some ulterior motive for asking, but he couldn’t see any and it was entirely possible that Severus simply cared for his well-being. He could see the hint of a scar over the rim of Severus’ collar, as well as an almost imperceptible tremor in his left hand, but – ever observant – the older man caught his cursory glance and at once fisted his hand to hide the movement. It was enough to make Harry blush in embarrassment at being caught, whilst he looked down at the knots on the wood of the table, as he sought for some sort of distraction. Severus broke the silence.

“I shall endeavour not to pass comment,” he said quietly.

“Thanks,” replied Harry. “It’s kind of like back in fifth year. I’ve woken up sometimes with an _awful_ pain in my scar, which I _know_ is just in my head, but it reminds me of Voldermort and the battles and how I lost Sirius . . . I’ve barely slept some nights . . . woken myself up screaming some others. I think it was made worse during training, because sometimes I see people aiming their wands at me during practise duels and -! I froze last time. I just flashed back to the battle; I couldn’t see anything else around me . . . I thought I was going to die.”

“I would recommend that you see a grief counsellor. I believe it would be an insult to both our intelligences to suggest that we continue with Occlumency, but there are some counsellors that teach such techniques with patients experience post-traumatic stress or prolonged grief disorder. It sounds as if these dreams are impairing your day-to-day life, which is quite detrimental to your health. You said these dreams have changed?”

“Yeah, the latest one I dreamt I die,” muttered Harry. “I saw our son by your side, but you didn’t see or notice him playing with some potions, and I couldn’t stop him being that I was – well – dead . . . there was this absolute _terror_. I was so helpless to stop him!”

Severus let his eyes fall downwards, whilst Harry felt an intense wave of embarrassment. It was something of a relief to know that Severus wasn’t staring at him like he sometimes did, where those eyes would seemingly search his soul or analyse his body language, and yet he knew that his husband was probably fighting the urge to roll his eyes. The thing was that Harry knew death was a possibility . . . Teddy only had Andromeda and himself left, which was no real substitute for Remus and Tonks. Harry knew how it felt to always dream of parents and a real family, so the last thing he wanted was for his child to endure that.

“I know it sounds stupid,” said Harry sadly.

“Not at all,” answered Severus. “I would suggest that you discuss these fears at length with Miss Granger or a trained professional, but – in the meantime – have you given consideration to Minerva’s offer to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts?”

“That? I turned her down last year. I turned her down again this year, but term starts in a couple of weeks and she’s still asking me. How did you know about that? It doesn’t matter I guess. I turned it down originally as there were too many memories . . . it’s been great guest-lecturing there, but I don’t know if I could do it full-time. I lost so much in that school.”

“You gained so much, also. I will say that I have very few good memories of my time as a student, with my worst memory being set in those very grounds, but Hogwarts was always your home. I think that it could be a good stepping-stone to ending your nightmares. The job of an auror is very taxing; it will keep you away from your children, it will trigger your fears with the confrontation of such criminals, and it will put your _life_ at risk.”

“Oh God, I can’t believe I’m bloody going to say this, but you’re right.”

“I’m _often_ right, but it is not often I hear it said.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh. He looked to Severus and saw that he wore something of a smirk, an expression somewhere between a smile and a frown, and it looked as if he were fighting an urge to smile in turn. The left hand – that previously shook – now rested flat against the surface of the table, which drew Harry’s attention for a brief moment, and he wondered whether the physical reaction was a weakness from his injuries or due to nervousness about their future. He wondered whether he should have _insisted_ on carrying the child.

It was then that his stomach churned, as he reminded himself that there would soon _be_ a child, one in which he _needed_ to be there to raise and love, especially when Severus never wanted this. Oh God, if he died, Severus would have full custody over a child that he was _forced_ to bear. It wouldn’t be fair on either man or child. Still, being an auror was his _dream_ , not to mention that they worked out everything on the assumption he would be working as an auror . . . working as a teacher would mean longer hours and a heavier reliance upon Severus. Still, why would Severus suggest it unless he was willing to provide extra help?

They sat quietly opposite one another for a long moment, until Harry began to realise that he was fidgeting, enough that the sound of his clothes rustling and the chair creaking evidently started to irk Severus. The older man shot him a dark glare and raised an eyebrow, which caused Harry to look about the room nervously, whilst his mind worked over and over the different options there were regarding his career. If he considered teaching, it would inevitably affect Severus, too. He scratched his neck and looked to Severus nervously.

“If I think about taking the job . . .”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here, Potter. I lack the patience today for dillydallying.”

“I would have to work nearly all day, Severus. I’d probably have to put in some time at the weekends too . . . I couldn’t work part-time like we planned with the auror office. I would get _huge_ holidays, yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’d be away most of the week during term-times. You don’t want a child. It was a chore to even get you agree to watching them _part-time_. . . how would you feel about watching them almost _full-time_?”

“It is something we can work out nearer the time,” said Severus coolly. “I would suggest perhaps arranging someone to watch the child, as well as Teddy, and it isn’t as if we wouldn’t have a shortage of your friends and fans to volunteer for such a position. My offer still stands to watch the child part-time, this I believe I can manage.”

“I know, but I really would want one of us to raise them . . . not strangers.”

“You would give up the chance of teaching to raise a child?”

The scepticism in Severus’ voice was clear. It was perhaps natural, as Defence Against the Dark Arts was the _one_ subject that Severus felt passionate about and taught moderately well, and – were it not for a variety of reasons – it was possible he would have been content to continue teaching it himself, but Harry wasn’t like Severus. Their priorities were different. He wondered whether he _could_ give up a good job for his family, but there was no question.

“Yeah, I think I would,” admitted Harry.

“I would strongly suggest taking the job. The child will not be due until approximately May, assuming the potion has taken, which is very much the end of the school year, more or less, and this would enable you to at least teach a year without issue. We thus have nine months to discuss in detail how we wish the child to be raised and by whom, but I must confess that both Dumbledore and the students themselves expressed admiration upon your teaching techniques . . . not many can teach fifth years to produce a Patronus Charm.”

Harry gave a weak smile and looked to Severus, who looked back with an almost indecipherable – yet somewhat sincere – expression upon his face. It felt strange to be complimented by someone that only used to give insults, but he wondered maybe whether this was a step forward towards something close to a friendship, and – as such – he didn’t want to say anything that would sound dismissive or disrespectful. Harry gave a shrug.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“It is something to consider, certainly,” said Severus.

“The thing is . . . I – er – never really taught according to a lesson plan. I pretty much winged it, and judging from how most of our real teachers taught . . . maybe you could give me some tips or help me to set up some plans? You sucked at Potions, but you were good at DADA.”

“I shall take that backhanded compliment for what it is. Very well, wait there.”

“Wait here? What am I waiting for?”

There was the sound of wood scraping against stone, as Severus pushed back his chair and used his right hand to balance himself. He gave the usual quirk of his eyebrow, as he pushed back a stray lock of hair, and cast Harry a look that expressed a flat feeling of disbelief. It was the flare of his nostrils that made it clear he was holding back an insult, which – as far as Severus went – was a huge sacrifice, as his husband never passed up an opportunity to mock Harry for what was ‘obvious’. Severus merely rolled his eyes and walked around the desk.

“I keep my lesson plans in the office adjacent to my bedroom,” said Severus.

“You want to go through them all right now? Really?”

“I thought it important to you. Am I mistaken?”

It was difficult to fight back the urge to postpone. The truth was that he wasn’t in the mood to go over lesson plans at that moment, not least with the emotional roller coaster of the past few days, and his mind was preoccupied with the idea of a child. Still, he could see Severus ready to leave the laboratory, even with his subtle limp and clear frustration with their situation, and if he refused him now it would probably be misinterpreted . . . he sometimes forgot that Severus’ perfectionist ways often translated into his expectations of others. It felt that – if Severus could find the energy and will to work through all things – he expected everyone else to do so in the process. It was a little exhausting.

Harry fought back a sigh, as he hoped that his reluctance didn’t show on his face, and turned in his chair to see Severus positioned ready to leave. It was probably more telling that – after the mess that happened during their Occlumency classes – he was willing to leave Harry unsupervised in his private laboratory, and it spoke of a trust that Harry couldn’t quite understand, especially when he had done little to earn Severus’ trust. Still, it was nice to _finally_ be civil with one another, even if he knew it was unlikely to last for long.

“You’re not mistaken,” said Harry. “Thank you, Severus.”

“Do not mention it, Harry.”


	10. Chapter Ten

# Chapter Ten

It was hard to look away . . .

Harry realised that it likely made Severus self-conscious, but it was just so _surreal_ to finally have the confirmation that – yes – they would be having a child. The older man simply sat upon the sofa opposite with a stern expression, although it was likely he simply disagreed with whatever it was that he read, at least judging by the way he annotated the pamphlets and book in his hand. It was as if Severus were too interested in _studying_ the biology of what was going to happen, rather than simply _appreciating_ the moment for what it was.

The past four weeks were tense, but now they were a month into their first trimester . . . Harry constantly found himself stealing glances to Severus’ stomach, even as the black material of his robes hid the skin perfectly, and even though there wasn’t even a bump to currently show. He smiled despite himself, as he sat awkwardly on the armchair by the living-room window, and tried to ignore how surreal the situation felt. There was no denying that this wasn’t an ideal situation, but – as the fire crackled and snapped between them – he thought about how soon he would have a _real_ family, one that he always _dreamt_ of having, and he wondered whether he could be a good father so young . . . so inexperienced . . .

“You are staring, Potter,” snapped Severus.

Harry blushed slightly and lowered his gaze. The lesson plans on his lap were hardly as interesting as mentally planning the nursery or picking out names, but he knew that he was thinking too far ahead in any case. Their priority needed to be making sure that both Severus and the baby were okay, especially as the healer recommended rest due to Severus’ injuries, which wasn’t too mention that Severus never _wanted_ this child . . . he probably felt self-conscious, especially as male pregnancies were rare and it would draw more attention to himself. It may not have been their baby’s fault, but they came at a great cost . . .

“I’m sorry,” said Harry. “I was just thinking.”

“Indeed? Stranger things have happened,” replied Severus sarcastically. “We are but two weeks into the new school year, I would suggest that you focus upon your lessons and less upon a foetus that has yet to so much as develop ears or eyes.”

“Hey, I can’t do any worse than _you_ did. Remember when you threatened to feed Neville’s potion to his toad, but then docked points anyway because it wasn’t _poison_?” Harry smiled to show that he was just jesting. “Look, Severus, I know that this is a violation for both of us, plus I can’t even _begin_ to imagine how awful you must feel being the one to carry them, but I’m just kind of in shock about being a father, you know? It’s a big deal to me.”

Severus gave a loud exhale of breath, which was enough to make Harry feel self-conscious in turn and frown at the plans on his lap. It was often easy to offend his husband without realising, so that it was possible he took his anecdote as an insult, and that wasn’t to mention that he could have taken his confession as an implication this _wasn’t_ important to Severus. He heard Severus slam his book closed and dropped it loudly upon the table beside him, so that – for an instant – he was _sure_ this would become an argument, but Severus merely asked:

“Would you like to touch them?”

The question came as something of a surprise. Harry noticed that Severus’ tone was very curt and cold, so that this was a _huge_ sacrifice to even make such an offer, but Harry couldn’t ever remember knowing anyone pregnant before. He held so many questions, although he would probably be better off asking a healer or Hermione than Severus, and yet he realised he was curious how it would feel when the baby kicked or whether it would recognise their voices or how they would know whether it was comfortable. He was itching to get up and go over, but he was so worried about Severus’ reaction. They were crossing enough boundaries already.

“Are you sure you won’t mind?” Harry asked.

“I would not have offered should I have minded,” said Severus. “It is – _unfortunately_ – your child as well as mine, but I am willing to share this experience with you to an extent. If I find, however, you _singing_ or _talking_ to said foetus whilst it is still inside me, I _will_ hex you.”

“Deal,” Harry replied with a laugh.

He quickly dropped the lesson plans on top of the marked essays beside him, as he moved quickly across the room to sit beside his husband. They were on somewhat better terms lately, which was helped by the fact that Harry’s teaching position was something of a bridge between them, enough that it gave them something to talk about and discuss in a civil manner, but they still found things somewhat tense between them. This was also far closer to Severus than he ever imagined that he would sit in their lifetime.

It took him a long moment to work up the courage to touch Severus’ stomach. The older man at once drew in a deep breath and seemed to hold it, so that the entire abdomen felt tense and somewhat solid, which was made only worse by the stiff fabric of his waistcoat hidden beneath his robes. All in all, it was probably impossible to actually feel the stomach itself this way, and – aside from an ever so slight curve – there was no bump there in the slightest, and yet he found himself smiling regardless. It felt so _unreal_ to think that his hand was just _inches_ away from his unborn child, with only skin and muscle separating them.

“This . . . feels pretty weird,” muttered Harry.

“Indeed,” said Severus. “I imagine it will be less awkward once the child is further developed. It should be approximately four to five months into the pregnancy, at which point I will inevitably be showing. You may find it more worthwhile then.”

“It’s already worthwhile. I’m just happy to be close to them.”

“Foolish Gryffindor sentimentality.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but Severus merely reached out to pick up his book. It took Harry a moment to notice what the book was about, as he was too engrossed on the feeling of the stomach beneath him, but – after a while – he saw that it was apparently a book on potions to aid foetal development, including potions that gave extra nutrients. He wondered whether they would act similar to vitamins given to Muggle women, but refrained from asking, as he let his fingers trace patterns over Severus’ stomach. It was then Severus winced.

“Are you sure this isn’t making you uncomfortable?”

“This is perhaps the first time that I have heard you put another first,” said Severus.

It was said so casually that it may have just been an offhand observation, but it hit Harry hard and caused him to feel a sharp pang of guilt. He never really considered himself a selfish person, although he would reluctantly admit to being a bit impulsive, but it was true that he didn’t think of Severus’ reaction when picking him. He never thought about the effects of raising or bearing a child, just as he never really thought about what this would mean in the long-term for them or for their child. He bit his lip and slowly pulled back his hand.

He caught Severus raise an eyebrow. It would have been nice to continue, but it just didn’t feel right and Severus wouldn’t properly _answer_ him, which – even after all this time – was still something that irked him. They were at such a tenuous place in their friendship, so that he didn’t want to risk doing something that would make Severus uncomfortable, and so it was better to remove his hand than to take the chance, even if he knew to trust Severus to _tell_ him when a line was crossed. Still, how many times had he put himself before Severus in the past? Harry opened his mouth to ask, but heard the front door open from within the hall.

‘ _Harry! Severus! Are you in?_ ’

“Er, in here, Mr Weasley!”

Arthur quickly appeared within the living room, as Harry jumped quickly further down the sofa, so that there was a good foot between him and Severus. The Fidelius Charm upon their home was only set to allow a very specific handful of people inside, and – fortunately – the balding and redheaded wizard was one, which allowed him to act as their mediator during the course of their marriage. Arthur looked somewhat flushed, as he rushed inside and quickly came over to Severus to shake his hand, before he moved to the armchair and took a seat.

“Ah, here you both are! I was starting to get worried!”

“We weren’t expecting you just yet,” said Harry. “Sorry, I would have been waiting, but I forgot you said you might be early . . . we were just – er – talking about the baby. You – you haven’t told anyone yet, right? It’s just . . . we want to reach the second trimester first.”

“Not at all! Well, I told Molly, of course, but she hasn’t told a living soul. I can’t really keep such a secret from my wife now, can I? We’ve already started to put together a small hamper for the baby! It’s not much, but Molly’s knitting some clothes and I’ve put in a bottle of a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey in there. Don’t look at me like that! It’s for Severus _after_ the birth! Right, well, where were we? _Mediating_! Who’d have thought it, eh?”

Arthur gave a wink and looked across to Harry. It was hard not to feel a little embarrassed, even if there wasn’t anything romantic between himself and Severus, because they were _married_ now and Arthur was there to make sure the marriage was going well. He pulled at his collar to try and give himself a little bit more room to breathe, whilst Arthur sat his briefcase on the floor beside his feet and began to pull out a folder. It wasn’t that Harry minded Arthur’s company, but simply that their marriage felt _private_. . . did it need to be evaluated?

“I half-expected an _auror_ to be our mediator,” said Severus.

There was a somewhat nervous cough from Arthur, as he glanced down at the papers in his hand and flicked through until he found what he seemed to need. Severus rested his book upon his lap, as he gazed sternly across at the other man, but Arthur didn’t look intimidated in the least, rather he simply looked a little embarrassed and somewhat redder in the face than usual. It was true that it should have been an auror to check in on them, which begged the question why _Arthur_ was allowed to do such a job, and Harry wondered the reason and whether Arthur was embarrassed not to be an auror like they expected.

“Well, that was the original plan,” admitted Arthur.

“What happened?” Harry asked curiously. “Not that I mind or anything.”

“Ron volunteered himself for the position, actually, but the Ministry thought it wouldn’t be too appropriate given how close you both are and how he’s only just qualified as an auror, plus – just between us three – he’s thinking of quitting soon to help George out at the shop. I’m a bit worried about how the press will report it when they find out, but what’s important is his well-being and not the rumours of Skeeter.”

“Oh, Ron never mentioned that . . . I thought he was enjoying being an auror. I would have stayed, but I guess with things being what they are . . . Severus and I talked about it for over a week before I made the decision. I realised that I would probably be a lot better off teaching, plus it’s a lot better for us as a family. I’ll be closer, regular hours, less risk of death . . .”

“All these changes seem to happen so quickly!” Arthur chirped. “Hermione just got her position at the Ministry, too. Can you believe it? Ah, look at me; I’m being ever so rude, aren’t I? How are you holding up, Severus? Bearing the pregnancy well?”

“Ecstatically,” muttered Severus.

The silence that followed was quite awkward. Harry caught a movement from the corner of his eye, enough that he saw Severus cross his legs and fold his arms, although he was certain that the gesture looked almost protective. It was possible he felt somewhat paternal, but it was more likely that he sought to hide any possible sign of his stomach out of sight. He was likely self-conscious, and so – as Harry tried his best not to look – he made a mental note not to mention the pregnancy around other people . . . unless Severus mentioned it first.

“So the Ministry asked you to mediate?” Severus prompted.

“Oh, yes, right!” Arthur slapped the sides of his legs. “They thought – given how hard this is on you both – it might be better to keep things informal, as well as having someone you can trust to talk about all this. I hope you don’t mind that I offered to do it.”

Harry smiled as warmly as he could manage. He looked to Arthur and saw that he looked somewhat older than he once did, although the loss of his son held a great impact on him, as no parent should ever outlive their children. The other man was like family to him, enough that he respected him and loved him, and – at one point – he thought Arthur would even be his father-in-law, but things were different now. It was true that he would rather have Arthur act as mediator than a stranger, but he also felt it difficult to discuss something as personal as marriage with the father of his ex-girlfriend. He tried not to let it show.

“No, not at all,” said Harry.

“Great! So tell me, Harry, how are things between you?”

There was an awkward moment of silence, as Harry cast a shy glance to Severus. It felt somewhat presumptuous to say things were going well, whilst to say they were going badly would only offend his husband, and to say it was anything in the middle would probably require explanations and reasons. He honestly didn’t know how Severus felt, which only made the pressure he felt all the more intense. There was no way he could speak for _both_ of them, but the question was clearly directed at him.

“Well – er – I guess it’s . . . Severus?”

“It is going as can be expected,” said Severus quietly. “I would be very reluctant to call Harry a ‘friend’, but – so long as I am not required to admit so publicly – I shall admit privately that we have been civil and some conversations have been almost bearable.”

“I think that’s Severus way of saying its well,” added Harry. “Severus has actually been really helpful in helping me work out my lesson plans and with marking, as I can’t say I’ve ever really taught professionally before, you know? It’s – it’s been good. I’ve stopped having as many nightmares than when I was training to be an auror, and I think it’s good to be out of such a combative and competitive environment. Er, Severus’ business is going well, too.”

“Is it? That’s great news!” Arthur chirped. “I imagine things must be a lot slower lately, though, what with some fumes and ingredients being off-limits. Still, it’s bound to pick up again once the baby is born! Speaking of which, have you two given any thought as to how you’ll raise the little boy or girl? All I’m hearing is about your _work_.”

“We have not yet given such thought to how we shall co-parent,” confessed Severus. “Our current priority is to develop a tentative friendship. It shall be impossible to raise this child together without some foundation of trust. We must be practical, Arthur.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s a fair point really.”

Arthur looked to Harry with a confused expression. It must have seemed alien to him to have a child with someone without a romantic relationship in place, and – for a while – Harry envied the other man for that, because Arthur was with a person he loved and had a family that he adored. Harry was forced to wonder whether a friendship would be enough to raise a child together, as it wasn’t as though they could _force_ love or romance, and yet he could feel Arthur looking at him with something like pity. He wondered what Severus thought.

They sat in awkward silence for a while, as Harry cast a nervous glance to his husband. It was gradually growing easier to reconcile the man that Severus was with the one that Harry thought him to be, as he realised that his husband was more complex than he once considered, and – as he came to appreciate him for both the good and the bad – he wondered what it would be like to be together ‘until death do them part’. He never really considered Ginny as having any bad qualities, whilst Cho appeared to have nothing _but_ bad qualities at a certain point, but Severus . . . he was such a complex person. Harry wanted his child to grow up knowing what _love_ was, what a _partnership_ was, but to have those things with Severus -?

It was difficult to think about how they would parent a child. They would need to agree on a name, work out how they would keep their careers and raise the child, and even come to an understanding about what values they wanted to instil. He thought about how Percy and Ron were so different, about how Charlie and George may have easily come from different families, and he wondered just how much input a parent actually had when it came to their child’s development and ultimate personality. How much of himself or Severus would be there? He shook his head and changed the topic with a weak smile.

“Er, any word on the law yet?” Harry asked.

Arthur perked up at once and flicked through the papers on his lap, where – eventually – he fell upon a piece of paper that he appeared need, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room felt much lighter. It made Harry lean forward curiously, although he knew that he couldn’t see the words from this far across the room, but he could _just_ about make out the seal of the Ministry and the title that mentioned the law itself. There was a slight flush to Arthur’s cheeks, as he smiled brightly and tried to reassure Harry with his expression.

“Ah, the law!” Arthur chirped. “Well, there’s progress there, Harry!”

“There is? That’s good! I thought they might continue to treat it like a low priority, but I guess I should have trusted Hermione and Kinglsey from the start. No one else is going to have to go through this, are they? They’re repealing the law, right?”

“Well, they are, but . . . these things do take time, Harry. The current aim is to have the law abolished by around Christmas, which means that no one else will be subject to such a breach of rights ever again, but that does very little to help those – like yourself – that were forced into marriage already. We’re expecting that you should be allowed to annul, however.”

“So – so we could have the option of annulling the marriage?”

“Ideally, yes, certainly!”

The way that Arthur said that so cheerfully made Harry wince. He cast a sideways look to Severus and tried to think about what was best for them as a couple, especially as Severus was _forced_ into this marriage, and Severus deserved a choice in the matter. He deserved to be _free_ from the marriage, if he wanted to be free from it. Still, the idea of losing Severus was difficult, because it would mean their child coming from a split home . . . it was hardly the situation he dreamt about, but then this wasn’t _about_ him, was it? If Severus wanted to leave, he had every right to leave. Harry couldn’t stop him.

“Hoping to reunite with Ginny, eh?” Arthur teased.

“What? No, I –! _Oh God_ , I didn’t even _think_ about Ginny!” Harry dropped his head into his hands. “I just thought that it wasn’t fair on Severus that -! I don’t think Ginny and I could get back together at this point; I mean . . . it was so damned _painful_ breaking up, so to go through all that again -? It’d mess with both our heads too much. I don’t know whether Ginny’s moved on, just as I don’t know whether I will, but I – I want to _try_ . . .

“It’d be wrong to get back together. It’s our second break-up and we’re both _finally_ getting closure from it, plus . . . Severus and I are _married_ , right? Even if we annul, we’re still married _now_ , and I don’t want to disrespect him like that. I don’t want to make a choice for _us_ without consulting _Severus_ , especially when we’re _pregnant_! Severus never wanted this marriage in the first place, let alone a _child_ , so I’m sure as hell not going to abandon _both_ without a huge amount of discussion, plus we’d need _something_ in place so I can help support them both. I . . . I want a family, but I don’t want to force Severus into anything.”

He gripped tightly at his black hair and gazed down at the floor, as he tried to fight away so many conflicting emotions in the process. There was a slight snort from Severus next to him, which caused him to glare at his husband rather darkly, as he disliked the idea that someone could be mocking his honest feelings. He drew in a deep breath and fell back against the sofa, as he tried to hold his tongue. Severus was in a far worse position than Harry, as hard as that was to admit, and keeping quiet was the best option for the both of them.

“How about you, Severus?” Arthur asked awkwardly.

“The prospect of an annulment is something that I would need to discuss with my husband alone,” said Severus firmly. “I must say that – with the pregnancy and neither of us in a romantic relationship to another person – it makes more sense to retain the status quo.”

“Well, it’ll be a few months yet before it’s even a possibility.”

“Wonderful. More time for discussion, I suspect.”

Arthur gave a sigh in turn. He looked from Harry to Severus several times, where he likely saw only frustrated confusion from Harry and a stoic secrecy from Severus, and there was no way that he would get a better answer from either of them. The fire flickered from afar and cast a strange glow about the room, which distracted Harry briefly, but – in the back of his mind – he kept playing over Severus’ words in his head, as he tried to work out what was wrong _this_ time. He could sense the sarcasm, but he wasn’t sure what he did to deserve it.

“Is that all, Arthur?” Severus asked.

“I believe so,” replied Arthur. “I ought to have a word with both of you in private, just so I can say that I made sure you both had the opportunity to speak openly and honestly. I think it all looks quite good, if I’m honest. I was expecting a lot more bloodshed!”

“Well, if that is all, I believe I shall return to my work. Excuse me.”

Severus carefully stood up, before he brushed down his robes and walked past. He hid his limp incredibly well, so much so that the swish of his billowing robes was close to how Harry remembered during school, and yet – as he turned to open the door – he caught a glimpse of pain across his face and knew it was just an act. It made him wonder what else Severus could be hiding. The memories of how he injured his leg during first year, just as how he hid the mark on his arm throughout the entirety of his teaching career . . .

He caught Severus give him a dark and stern look before he left. It was enough to make Harry bite his lip hard to refrain from speaking out of turn, as he looked to Arthur and saw the concern across the other man’s face. They were supposed to be getting on, which they _were_ , but this just looked . . . well . . . _bad_. He hoped that Severus would stay in his laboratory or office until Arthur left, so – that way – he could talk to his husband and _possibly_ work out just what was irritating him, but it was possible that Severus would lock himself away, which would kill any conversation before it began. He hated it when Severus hid. He just wanted a relationship of equals, to know what was wrong . . .

“Are you _sure_ everything is okay, Harry?” Arthur asked.

“I thought so,” muttered Harry. “I _hope_ so.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

# Chapter Eleven

“Yeah, we’re getting on well.”

Harry smiled mostly to himself. The living room in the Burrow felt all the more cosy during the Christmas holidays, enough that it felt like a home away from home, and the blazing fire crackled and roared as if it were alive. Hermione and Ron stole both of the armchairs, where they sat leaning upon the arms towards one another, which seemed almost romantic when Harry saw them sneaking small touches and glances to each other, and he almost envied them for that level of intimacy. He looked down at Teddy on his lap and smiled even brighter.

The small boy appeared fascinated by the dancing cake-topper, which skated across the white icing and sent a spray of icing-sugar over the sides onto the plate, and – Harry noticed – Ron kept looking towards the cake on the low coffee table in turn. Teddy merely wanted to play with the toy on top, but Ron was practically salivating for a slice of cake, even though dinner was yet to be served and Molly occasionally stepped into the room to make sure that no one had taken a cheeky slice without permission. There was the sound of Arthur laughing from nearby, whilst the shadow of Severus could be seen through the window, where he stood for some ‘fresh air’, and Harry felt _happy_ to be surrounded by his loved ones.

“Snape’s still as anti-social as ever, though” muttered Ron.

“Well, it must be difficult,” said Hermione kindly. “He must be around nineteen weeks pregnant now, Ronald. It must be awful to experience the kicking and hormones and nausea, which isn’t to mention the emotional stress and strain . . . it’s an awful lot to take at once.”

“Yeah, well, why come to the Christmas party then? He could have stayed home.”

“Ronald! It’s nice that he’s put in such an effort!”

“ _What_ effort? I haven’t seen him yet!”

Ron actually made a fair point. It was already dark outside, but Severus has yet to make any sort of small talk with anyone except Arthur or Molly. He helped – despite Molly’s protests – in setting up the tent and tables outside, ready for when the rest of the Weasley clan descended for their evening meal, and simply taken to exploring the grounds outside since, which meant that he appeared more of a strange shadow than a real guest. Still, this wasn’t easy for Severus by far, so simply _being_ at the Burrow was a huge concession.

“What’s he been like at home, mate?” Ron asked.

“Great, actually,” said Harry, as he bounced Teddy. “He’s still pretty secretive about his feelings, but I think he’s starting to trust me a little more. I’ve tried to talk to him about the possibility of an annulment, because it’s not right for Severus to be forced into this, not if he doesn’t want to be, but he manages to find a way to avoid the subject. It’s like he’s purposely avoiding talking about it, so I haven’t pushed it. I’ve just let him know the choice is his.”

“That’s very fair of you, Harry,” interjected Hermione. “I just hope that you remember that this is a choice _both_ of you have to make. If I were Severus, I would want to avoid talking about it too, at least until you didn’t make it entirely _my_ responsibility. It’s a lot of pressure to decide for two people! He doesn’t even know how you feel, which must make it harder.”

“I – I don’t _know_ how I feel, Hermione! It’s nice to have him around the house, plus he’s turned out to be a pretty good friend, and I’m _really_ excited to have a real family. The idea of him moving out and having to time-share our son -? It’s more painful that hearing a mandrake shriek! Still, don’t you need _love_ to make a marriage work? That’s what confuses me, Hermione! I don’t know if I _can_ love him like that, but I know he sure couldn’t love _me_ like that! Things have changed, but -! This was supposed to be a marriage of _convenience_!”

Harry collapsed back against the sofa. The clock nearby signalled that Charlie was ‘travelling’, which meant that the rest of the family would soon be arriving, and he could see the lights of the tent outside sparkle on the windowpane, as a reminder that there was a world outside of the one he created for himself. Severus was outside somewhere, whilst Molly and Arthur gossiped in the kitchen, and he could hear Ginny somewhere in the garden, as she hung the outdoor decorations. It felt strange that life could carry on all around him, whilst he felt so confused and conflicted, unable to make sense of his situation.

It was then that Teddy let out a loud yawn, which stole Harry’s attention and made him wonder how he would be able to juggle Teddy, his son and a job all at once, but – for now – the priority was working out what he _felt_ and whether Severus wanted the annulment, all else needed to be secondary. He lifted Teddy up against his chest, as the toddler’s head rested on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around Harry’s neck, and he smiled to himself as Teddy began to fall into a light sleep. It was then that Ron let out a long sigh.

“Do you think you could be – you know – _into_ him?” Ron asked.

“ _I don’t know_! That’s the thing! You know what I do know? I know that the other night he let me feel the baby kick, but I was tired from teaching and fell asleep listening to our son’s movements . . . the baby woke me up by kicking. I half-expected Severus to jinx me, but he just said that – the way the baby kicks – they’ll probably end up playing Quidditch too, only they better be playing for Slytherin and not Gryffindor. He didn’t seem to mind at all.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Hermione questioned in turn. “You both seem to be more comfortable around one another, plus there was one point where he would have _mocked_ you for sleeping like that, not _teased_ about your child’s house at Hogwarts. It’s progress, right?”

“It is, I guess, but . . . what does it _mean_ , Hermione?”

He looked across to Hermione for some sort of answer. The only response was the feeling of drool from Teddy on his shoulder, whilst Hermione looked away and seemed suddenly interested with the fireplace. He wanted some sort of answer, because he _hated_ himself for even _thinking_ that any of this could be a possibility, but only Hermione and Ron knew him well enough to offer any kind of advice, which was frustrating when neither was willing to tell him what he should or shouldn’t do. It was maddening to say the least.

“I can’t -!” Harry shook his head. “I _can’t_ fall for him.”

“Damn right you can’t!” Ron jumped in. “I know he did a lot for the war, but he was going to let Sirius _and_ Remus get the Dementor’s kiss! He tortured Neville enough that he saw him in the Boggart! Not to mention he’s hardly a looker, is he?”

“Ronald, that isn’t polite!” Hermione snapped.

It was impossible not to give an awkward smile. It wasn’t that he found the insults against his husband amusing, but more that he could understand what Ron was saying . . . there was a lot of bad blood between them and Severus, which would require time to process and forgive, just as much as it would take for Severus to forgive him for his transgressions in turn. That being said, surely ‘looks’ went both ways? He was nineteen and Severus was about to turn forty, which was quite the age-gap, not to mention that he wasn’t sure _what_ Severus liked.

“Ron’s right though, isn’t he?” Harry asked.

“No, he isn’t,” said Hermione. “You’ve _both_ changed since the war.”

“That – that isn’t what I mean! I just mean -! Well . . . I can get that Severus is more complex than I gave him credit for, that he’s not good or bad, just . . . _human_. I just wonder what it means should I like him as _more_ than a friend. I never really thought I could be anything other than straight, but even if I could be . . . could I be attracted to Severus? It’s one thing to start being attracted to him as a person, but don’t you need physical attraction, too?”

“That’s . . . something only you can decide, Harry. Severus has a lot of positive attributes as well as the negative, so it would depend upon what you _want_ to see, as it’s very easy to ignore the good for the bad. Listen . . . he’s outside still, isn’t he? Why don’t you invite him inside for a while? It would be good for us to get to know one another better.”

“Yeah, I suppose. Just don’t mention any of this to him, okay? I’ll talk about it with him when I’m sure he won’t curse me for it. He’d probably think I was mocking him or confused or something. I’ll go see what he’s up to. Watch Teddy for me?”

“Of course! I could never say no to Teddy!”

Teddy stirred at the mention of his name, which caused Harry to give a sincere smile and press a kiss to his hair. He carefully stood up, so as not to wake his godson, before he rounded the table and gently slid the sleeping boy into Hermione’s arms, where Teddy began to turn and gave a wide yawn. It was almost painful to leave the boy, even for a short time, but he whispered a ‘thank you’ to Hermione and headed quickly to the door, even as he heard Ron mutter not to ‘get any ideas’ to her on his way past.

He quickly headed outside, as he ran a hand through his hair and looked towards the tent for Severus, but the tent was rather large and – at first glance – he couldn’t see his husband at all, so that he wondered for a moment whether the older man chose to leave early. The sky above was absolutely beautiful, so that he could see all the familiar constellations and a full moon above, which was enough to remind him of the time spent camping with Ron and Hermione, just as how he thought to how the moon would forever remind him of Remus, and he felt oddly lonely in that moment. It would have been nice to share the evening with someone, but – for now – what was important was finding his husband.

“Severus? Severus!”

It was then that he caught sight of a shadow far off from the tent. There was a tree not far away, where a swing hung from a high branch, and it was likely a very recent addition to the land that belonged to the Weasley home. Harry couldn’t make out very much about the person who sat there, except that they appeared to hold something in their hand and a tall object sat by their foot, and – as he gave a long sigh – he walked over slowly in hopes that he might find his husband seeking a quiet and secluded place to find a moment of peace.

Severus turned his head just slightly, as Harry approached. He couldn’t see until he was much closer, but he could only assume that his husband was rolling his eyes at the sight of him, and – when he was only a few feet away – he found his eyes falling onto Severus’ stomach with a bright smile. It was almost impossible to look anywhere else when Severus was around, but his stomach was now prominent and visible even through his robes, and Harry was reminded that they would soon be parents with every glance. The only thing that ruined it was the bottle of fire whiskey beside him and the full tumbler in his hand . . .

Severus had been drinking.

There was a horrible feeling of revelation. It dawned on him slowly at first, as he refused to believe what he was seeing, but then a cold wave washed over him and his breath left him, until the anger began to seep in and take control. This was _their_ child, but – more than that – Harry _offered_ to carry the child all throughout the potion’s creation, and now Severus apparently decided that the burden of carrying them was too much to bear. He marched around the swing and stood directly in front of Severus with a glare.

“What are you drinking?” Harry asked.

“Fire whiskey,” muttered Severus. “Would you like some?”

Harry raised his hand to dash the tumbler from Severus’ hand, but instead shook it several times in an attempt to regain control. The beating of his heart was fast and heavy, enough that he felt overwhelmed and light-headed, and – as he gazed down at the swollen stomach – he could only think about how everything Severus imbibed would be in their son’s system as well, their son that Harry _swore_ to protect and make a priority, but was powerless to protect for as long as Severus carried him. He _trusted_ Severus to protect their son. He _trusted_ him.

“Did you even _think_ about our son before you drank that?”

“Why else would I be drinking it?” Severus snapped.

Harry shook his head in disbelief and left.

It was a surreal moment, where his feet moved and his mind stayed mired in his fury. He found himself walking around the Weasley home, until he was in the other garden on the opposite side of the house, and suddenly he wondered how he got there. The anger coursed through him until he could barely see anything else, and he felt tears in his eyes as he raised a shaking hand to his face. He wasn’t sure whether to scream or collapse or lash out, but he couldn’t lash out at Severus . . . he was carrying their _son_.

He heard Mrs Weasley laugh in the kitchen, whilst Teddy let out a cry from the living room, and somewhere close by a branch snapped. It was enough to make him spin around, as he half-expected to see Severus coming around the corner to talk to him, but – if he decided to follow – he stayed out of sight. Harry felt both relieved and frustrated. A part of him wanted to scream at Severus and demand an explanation, but another part of him felt grateful for the chance to be alone and calm himself down, because he didn’t want to set their relationship back any further. They _needed_ a constructive conversation, not one of rage.

‘ _Harry? What are you doing out here_?’

Harry spun around and saw Ginny not too far away. In the moonlight, she looked rather beautiful and her hair appeared almost silver in the light. There was a sense of longing when he saw her, with broom in hand and cheeks flushed from a stolen ride during the night, but – against all his wishes – he felt a sense of regret that she wasn’t Severus. How was it possible to love her and yet to love Severus, too? Still, when he saw her -! He felt something for her, but it was _different_ to what he felt for his husband . . . it felt more intense, but less real.

“Harry, are you okay? I thought –”

He marched over to her before he had time to think about his actions, before he raised his hands to cup her cheeks and pulled her into a kiss. It was more passionate than he intended, as the sheer emotion coursed through him and the rage made his heart race, but it didn’t quite feel as right as it once felt. He loved how soft her lips were, as well as a sweet taste of some treat she must have consumed before flying, but he felt as if something were _missing_ , enough that he wondered whether it was because what this wasn’t what he wanted . . . not really. The kiss was good, but the arousal and the sense of adoration were missing. It was incomplete.

It lasted only for a few seconds, before he realised just what was so wrong. The kiss was borne out of anger and confusion, so that he sought to hurt Severus in the way that Severus’ lapse of judgement hurt him, and also out of a need to _know_ what he felt and for _whom_. He pulled away and pushed at Ginny’s shoulders to separate them, as he ran a hand through his hair and felt his stomach roll due to guilt and shame, so that he felt almost physically sick. Ginny looked as confused as he felt, which didn’t reassure him.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, Ginny!”

“I thought we were _over_ , Harry! What’s changed?”

“Nothing! Nothing has changed! Oh God, I just -!” Harry realised he was crying. “I didn’t mean to lead you on, I swear! I was just so angry with Severus and I saw you and I -! I love you so much, Ginny, I do! I thought maybe if I just _kissed_ you -! I don’t know, but maybe I would realise I was _in love_ with you and it would take the sting away, instead -! I just feel so _guilty_! Severus _trusted_ me to keep my vows! He’s been betrayed so many times -!”

“Then why did you just _kiss_ me? This isn’t like you, Harry! You can’t force yourself to fall in or out of love! We said we would move on and if you’ve moved on -? I won’t pretend that it’s easy on me, but I’m starting to meet people . . . there’s no shame in having feelings for Severus, Harry. There really isn’t, but . . . what did he _do_? Does he want the annulment?”

“No! No. At least, I don’t think so,” muttered Harry. “I – er – caught him drinking outside. I thought he was just out for air, but he was _drinking_ , Ginny! I was just so damned _furious_ with him, but I don’t even know why when I should have expected something like this!”

“Our mum always used to say that opposite of love isn’t hate, but indifference.”

“Love and hate being two sides of the same coin?”

Harry gave a sad smile, as he turned his back on her momentarily. The truth was that he felt angry because he felt _betrayed_ ; he learned to trust Severus and to appreciate his presence, but Severus had acted in a way that he _knew_ Harry would disapprove _and_ that could hurt their child! He expected more. He _wanted_ more. Still, the idea that he could have those kinds of feelings for someone other than Ginny -? He remembered how he swore to always love her, but – although he still did – it just didn’t feel the _same_. Harry blinked away several tears.

“I _can’t_ be falling for him, Ginny! I just can’t!”

“Well, I hate to say it, but you _are_ ,” snapped Ginny, as Harry turned to face her. “It’s possible to be angry with someone and _still_ love them, because – let’s be honest – I’m pissed as hell at you right now, but I still love you. You have a right to be angry at him for drinking, but that doesn’t mean whatever you’re starting to feel will just _go_ because of it! You also can’t _force_ what you feel away, because feelings just don’t work that way!”

“I know, I know! We were making such progress, too . . . I don’t want him to think that I’m just another person that’s using him or not making him a priority, but I _hate_ feeling this way and I hate that he could have done something so _stupid_! I like him, but . . .”

“No one’s perfect, Harry; not me, not Severus . . . you never used to run from me like this, so why are you running from Severus? He’s bound to screw up from time to time, but you have to _face_ him and _talk_ to him. This -? It’s just going to confuse you _and_ me. We need _closure_ , Harry! You won’t get closure from betraying Severus! Two wrongs don’t make a right!”

“I know, but I -! I never thought I’d ever love someone else!”

“So you feel like you’re betraying _me_?”

He looked to Ginny and tried to see her for just _her_. There was never a moment in his life where he ever hoped for anything better than what he experienced, whether it was to escape the Dursley household or to make it to his seventh year alive, and so there was never an opportunity to properly explore dating or his sexuality . . . Ginny was his first love, but also the first time he really let himself _hope_ for anything. Ginny symbolised the family he always wanted, but never thought he could have, only now -?

He _could_ have that family without her, which was something almost terrifying when he thought about it in detail. There was a _choice_ there, when he never truly had any choices in his lifetime, and there was the fear of making the _wrong_ choice, especially when by committing to one he knew he could potentially lose out on a real love. Still, maybe Ginny was right . . . she dated more than he had, so she knew well that there were many types of love and attraction, and maybe – just _maybe_ – it was possible to fall in love with someone else, but to still always hold her dear to him. There was no need to sacrifice his career or dreams of a family with Severus, whilst it was only fear holding him back.

Ginny looked beautiful, but what he felt for her wasn’t what he felt so many months back, and when he looked at her . . . he still felt _something_ , perhaps he always would, but it wasn’t quite enough to make him want to risk everything for her. He thought about how ethereal Severus seemed to look on the swing; he was distinctly masculine, not soft or svelte like Ginny, whilst his swollen stomach held a _life_ inside it, the start of a real family and a permanent connection between them, and he thought about how at _peace_ he felt around Severus, too. It confused him, but – in a weird way – he _liked_ that confusion.

“I’ll always love you, Ginny,” he whispered.

“It’s okay to move on,” she said kindly. “We both need to move on.”

“I know, but if this is the end of us . . . it means there’s nothing holding me back from Severus. You have _no_ idea how much that scares me! There’s such an age-difference, plus everyone will be judging me for it, and he -! He’s not even taking this _seriously_!”

He turned his head to look at the corner of the house, where a part of him _so badly_ wanted to march back to Severus and demand answers, as well as to demand an apology, but the shadows that lingered were eerie and made the distance between them feel all the greater. It was more important to make an appointment with a healer, to make sure that the alcohol hadn’t hurt their son at all, but he couldn’t _make_ Severus attend an appointment like that! He bit his lip and turned to see that Ginny wore a very sad smile.

“Are _you_ taking it seriously?” Ginny asked.

The question irked him more than he liked. It felt obvious that this meant the world to him, as it was a virtual agony to try and process that he could feel _anything_ for Severus, but he knew that Ginny wouldn’t have asked the question unless it wasn’t apparent to an outsider’s perspective. He drew in a deep breath, then exhaled to see a small mist appear before his mouth, and tried to keep calm when he replied to her, as he knew that he _really_ needed to start controlling his anger, especially should he actually fall for Severus, as the older man was possibly _the_ most infuriating man he ever met. He bit his lip and shrugged.

“Of course, I’m taking it seriously!”

“Really?” Ginny asked. “That explains that kiss just then.”

“Hardly the same as drinking during _pregnancy_! He’s hurting the baby!”

“Yeah, whilst _you’re_ hurting him, if he finds out,” snapped Ginny.

Harry winced and scratched at his neck nervously. He thought back to the vows he made and how seriously he took them, as well as that he just _broke_ those vows out of confusion and anger, and he saw how flushed Ginny looked and realised it wasn’t just Severus he would have hurt with his actions. They were supposed to be moving on, but kissing her like that would only confuse her and make it harder for her to move on. It was enough to make him think that Severus was right, in that he still had a lot of growing to do . . .

It would be best to _talk_ to Severus about things, but he could predict exactly how that conversation would go. Severus would accuse him of confusing affection with love, just as he would say that he confused a desire for a family with a desire for a spouse, and he would argue that their age difference would be difficult to overcome, as well as the fact that Sirius and James would have wanted _better_ for Harry than an ex-Death Eater. He began to feel a headache and raised his fingers to his temples, but the gesture didn’t help in the least and instead he felt overwhelmed by everything that he felt and thought.

“If I tell him what I feel,” said Harry, “he’ll want to annul.”

“If you _don’t_ tell him, I guarantee that he will.”

The words hung in the air heavily, until he felt his shoulders slump and a heavy weight compress his soul, and Ginny – still the same as ever – was kind enough to embrace him in a warm hug and hold him tight for just a moment. It was only when she let go that he realised that things were truly over between them . . . he would always feel strongly for her, but he couldn’t love her the way he once did. Ginny gave a sad smile and took a step back.

“Just tell him that you like him,” she said. “Promise me?”

“I promise,” he said quietly.

 

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

# Chapter Twelve

Harry slammed down the bottle.

There was a rather heavy noise, as the glass dropped onto the surface of the wooden desk, and a small sloshing sound erupted from the contents as they splashed against the sides, but – all in all – it did little to get a reaction from Severus. The older man merely glanced up from the book before him, before he quirked an eyebrow at the sight of the fire-whiskey and looked instead to his husband. Harry blushed slightly in embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to be so aggressive in his gesture, but his anger got the better of him in that moment.

Severus gave a hiss of breath. He carefully folded closed his book, as he clasped his hands together and rested them on the cover. It felt somewhat intimidating to be standing in front of Severus’ desk in his private laboratory, although less so than the times when he would sit as a student and the older man would lean into his personal space, and he glanced to his husband’s stomach out of a need for distraction. The sight of it was enough to make him feel almost faint, as it served as a visual reminder of just how soon their child would be with them, but he also felt somewhat weak at the realisation that the look suited Severus well . . .

Severus had since bought new robes since reaching the midway point, whilst he had gained enough weight so as to look less spindly and spidery, and there was a slight colour to his cheeks from being forced to eat regularly and look after himself. It was something that Harry was grateful about, except for the fact he _still_ couldn’t get over how Severus drank that night those two weeks ago! He saw Severus glare back at him. It only served to make him glare back in turn, until the two sets of eyes were almost deadlocked, with green hitting black and the awkward feeling that maybe Severus was seeking to read his mind, to find out just _why_ Harry was acting as he did, and so – with a stronger blush – he looked away.

“You cannot look me in the eye,” said Severus.

It was phrased almost like a question, but meant as a statement. Harry looked back at Severus and gave a small shrug, as he tried to plan in his head what to say next, because – in all honesty – he hadn’t given much thought to anything except his attempt at breaking the tension between them, and suddenly the fire-whiskey seemed a _very_ bad way of doing that. The idea had been to shock Severus into seeing his actions for what they were, but the idea now seemed rather . . . childish. Severus wasn’t the sort to respond well to shock tactics.

“What is this, Harry?” Severus asked.

“Fire-whiskey. It’s an early birthday present,” said Harry awkwardly. “You seemed to enjoy it enough over Christmas, so I thought you’d like some more for tomorrow. It seems pretty obvious that you don’t care about our child, so why _not_ just drink some more, right?”

“Ah, you seek to begin a mature conversation with a passive-aggressive gesture.”

“No, I just sought to make you realise how -!”

Harry ran a hand over his face and tried to keep calm. It was clear that Severus was starting to grow angry, which – in hindsight – he had every right to be, because Harry’s attempt to ‘shock’ Severus into ‘sense’ _was_ a rather passive-aggressive insult. He could see that his husband was now somewhat pale, as his knuckles whitened with the pressure he held his hands together, and Harry wanted nothing more than to take the bottle back and start over afresh, even though he knew that would be absolutely impossible. It was easy to act out of anger, but impossible to undo the damage when he did . . . he needed to _think_ more.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have just _told_ you how I feel, but I just -! I thought that it might grab your attention more, because you haven’t _spoken_ to me since that night, and it’s hard to _talk_ when you avoid me so much! Severus, I -! I’m angry with you, but we haven’t spoken since the holidays and – well – I miss the _closeness_ we had . . . this went better in my head, I swear! I shouldn’t have begun a conversation by acting out.”

“I have learned – just as _you_ are beginning to learn to _think_ before you act – that patience is a virtue in matters regarding yourself. I will overlook your rudeness, if it means we can start afresh and you can tell me the _cause_ of this ridiculous temper tantrum. We are – as you keep reminding me – soon to have a child. We must work through our conflicts constructively.”

“That’s part of _why_ I acted out, Severus! I’ve barely _seen_ you since Christmas, because you keep hiding yourself away or leaving the room whenever I enter! I was tempted to confront you, but I didn’t want to stress you out any more when you’re carrying our child!”

“I am painfully aware of the child I am carrying. Get to the point, Harry.”

“Oh, because _that_ is ‘constructive’?”

Severus looked less than impressed. He leaned back in his chair and his nostrils flared, so that Harry realised he crossed a line, but – as immature as it was to give fire whiskey to Severus – it was literally the only way to get his husband’s attention. This was probably the most they said to one another in a fortnight, and Harry truly did miss the emotional intimacy that they once held, enough that he wondered whether things _could_ be fixed between them. He bit his lip and decided that it would be better to talk openly and honestly.

“You were _drinking_ , Severus! That’s why I’ve been so pissed!”

“You act as if I drank the entire bottle! Your anger is a _ridiculous_ over-reaction!”

“How – _how_ – am I overreacting?” Harry dropped into a chair opposite. “I have no idea how much your drank! Okay, _sure_ , I could have asked, but _you shouldn’t have been drinking at all_! That isn’t _your_ child or _my_ child; it’s _our_ child! That’s our _son_!”

Harry looked towards the bottle and felt a huge surge of anger, which he squelched with a deep breath and counted to ten in his mind. He clasped his hands between his legs, as he gazed down at the floor, and – as he looked down – he saw a familiar spot where a drop of the potion fell when Severus first took it. It gave Harry a sad smile, as he thought about how much hope and anxiety he felt that day, but now he just felt _scared_ . . . he was scared of losing the child, scared of losing Severus . . . just plain scared. He hated feeling that way, especially when he was supposed to be the strong one, the saviour . . . Harry gave a sigh.

“Everything you drink, our son drinks,” said Harry. “It’s too much of a risk.”

There was a continued silence from Severus. It was clear that his husband was offended, which made Harry at once try to work out how to fix his mistake. There were rare ingredients he could buy, perhaps new potions equipment or defence books, but he felt a degree of shame at the idea, because gifts wouldn’t rebuild the trust lost between them. He needed to open up and apologise properly, but – at the same time – he needed to know that his son was safe, because the idea of losing one more person . . . after having lost so many already . . .

“He’s our son, Severus . . .”

“Do you think me so self-involved that I would forget this fact?” Severus quirked an eyebrow and scoffed loudly. “There is very little that I can do to work through my frustrations, Harry, unless I were prepared to put our child at risk in the process. I have spoken at great length to many a healer; they recommend rest, a strict diet, and a lack of stress . . . I have listened thus far to all that they have said. They said – in regards to alcohol – a mere sip should not harm the foetus, although to refrain from large amounts . . .

“I would not drink to excess whilst carrying this child, just as I would not drink whilst the child was in my care or in my home. I know all too well the dangers of drinking. You did not witness a father smash his head against a wooden beam in rage, until blood dripped down his face, but refused to allow anyone to tend to the wound . . . you did not hear family secrets revealed in such drunken stupors, learning what can never be unlearned . . . you also do not know the pain of a half-clenched fist that will barely be remembered the next day. I am not like that man, for I know my limits, but I am like him in that I _need_ some vice for my sanity’s sake. If I drink, it will be in moderation. I am not my father, Potter.”

Harry felt something run cold inside him. This was the first time that Severus ever openly discussed his childhood, which was both a surprise and a horror, because he couldn’t imagine the impact that such a childhood would have upon a person. It was bad enough to suffer neglect and emotional abuse, but he couldn’t envision living in a home with the fear that any misplaced word or action could lead to physical abuse. The fact he gave Severus a bottle and accused him of drinking to excess -? It was a guilt he couldn’t quite rid.

It still felt like a shoddy excuse, because Severus knew that there wasn’t a universally agreed ‘safe’ amount of alcohol during pregnancy, but at least Harry could understand more about his husband’s position on the situation. He tried to think about how best to resolve the situation, as he didn’t want Severus to drink during pregnancy, but he knew that he needed to respect the older man’s feelings and his need for some release, and so – for a long moment – he kept quiet to compose himself and plan how to proceed. The silence between them felt awkward and uncomfortable, especially when before those silences were always moments of bonding or quiet shared time, and he wondered whether he could regain that trust.

He looked into Severus’ eyes and saw what may have been shame, along with a spark of anger that he last remembered seeing when he invaded Severus’ memories, and it became obvious that his husband put in a great effort to confess his past. This wasn’t easy for him. It was something Severus wanted to repress and forget, but – for their child’s sake – he allowed himself to discuss it in order to clear the air between both parents, so they could work out how to proceed, and Harry realised that he needed to meet Severus somewhere in the middle. He drew in a deep breath and looked away, ashamed of his actions towards the other man.

“You were punishing yourself,” whispered Harry. “You’re scared to become him.”

“Something like that, yes,” said Severus coldly.

Severus reached out to place a crooked finger upon the bottle, as he turned it to observe the label and quality of the contents. The expression he wore was impossible to decipher, but it was enough to make Harry slump in his seat and realise that he acted completely inappropriately, perhaps more so than Severus’ initial actions. He watched as his husband sighed and pushed the bottle towards Harry, who – with a great sense of shame – took it and placed it beside him on the floor. It felt that with every step forward, they took two back.

“I’m truly sorry,” said Harry. “I didn’t think.”

“No, you didn’t, but what is done is done.” Severus gave him a stern look. “I do not like to discuss my past any more than you like to discuss yours, but it is important for you to know the truth behind the matter. I trust that this will remain between us?”

“I – I haven’t really given you much reason to trust me, have I? I _swear_ that anything you say to me will be just between us, even if my word might not mean much to you, because you’re my husband and – well – my friend . . . I’m sorry it’s gone this far, Severus. We were starting to learn to trust one another, but it feels like I’ve ruined everything. I just -! Did you check in with the healers since Christmas? I _really_ need to know our son’s okay.”

“Our son is fine, Harry! Do you not realise that trust works both ways? You exhibit a level of hypocrisy that reminds me too much of your bully of a father! Are you aware that I would not have taken so much as a _sip_ , had I known that it offended you so? You say we were just learning to trust one another: _prove it, Potter_! Tell me what this is honestly about!”

“I told you what it’s about, Severus! You were drinking -!”

“ _What is this about, Harry?_ ”

The fury that Severus wore was obvious. He sat with nostrils flared and pupils wide, whilst there was a flush to his cheeks that indicated anger, and – as Harry looked at him – he wondered what effect this would have on their child. He needed to be honest with Severus, but how could he? The older man just wouldn’t understand! Hell, even if he could, Harry screwed up enough that there was _no way_ that Severus would trust him after this, and so what could he say? Harry leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face with his hands in frustration.

“I felt betrayed, okay!” Harry shouted. “I felt betrayed, because I think I like you!”

There was nothing else to be said after that. He never meant to _tell_ Severus that, because there was no way at all for such a feeling to be reciprocated, and he knew _exactly_ how his husband would react, but now the words were out there and they hung heavily. It was enough to bring Severus to his feet, as the older man slowly stalked around the desk and stood inches from Harry’s chair, where he placed a hand on the desk for balance and looked down with a white-hot fury that – even when pregnant – made him beyond intimidating. Harry felt his heart race and his palms grow wet with sweat, and he drew in a shaking breath.

“You think you ‘like’ me,” sneered Severus.

“Yeah, I do!” Harry flushed red and stared back. “I can’t say when I started to realise it, but I guess it was sometime before Christmas. It’s been driving me mad, Severus! I know you don’t like me like that in turn; I don’t expect anything to change, I’ll even keep my distance, but I just -! I _need_ you to know, because _that’s_ why this is annoying me so much! I love our son, Severus! _I love him so much_! I thought we were on the same page, but then you started drinking and I -! It felt like such a huge betrayal, because I expected _more_ from you!

“I should have noticed how you were struggling, but I didn’t. I was too lost in my own problems, because I never thought for a second I could be anything other than straight, plus this is _you_ we’re talking about! We have such a complicated history and you were my _teacher_ , so it was really confusing to realise what I was feeling! I should have realised you were struggling, but I didn’t. I swear that will change! I’ll start listening to you, stop putting my problems first, get a hold of my anger . . . I know that if I’d just _talked_ to you then none of this would have happened, but I screwed up, okay? I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Severus!”

“Oh, this _is_ rich,” snapped Severus. “You mean to tell me that the Boy-Who-Lived admits to a crush upon the teacher that tormented him since time immemorial? I cannot tell whether you seek to manipulate my emotions or whether you sincerely believe these lies! I am carrying your child; you are merely confused, nothing more! You see me swollen with child and have fooled yourself into believing this is love, all due to your desire for family!”

“God damn it, Severus! I know what I feel and I’m _not_ trying to manipulate you! I _knew_ you’d react this way, which is _why_ I never wanted to say anything! If I need to grow up, _you_ need to stop dismissing anything you don’t like the sound of! You’re not always right!”

“Ah, insult me! That is a sure-fire way to win my heart!”

“See, you’re still bloody doing it!”

Harry spun in his chair to look at Severus. It was so _insulting_ to be ignored, as if he were still a child and lacked any understanding of his actions, but – if Severus expected him to grow as a person – their relationship had to go both ways. They would be parents soon, so that they would need to reach decisions _together_ and work as a team, and every single time that Severus dismissed him and invalidated him -! He wondered whether Severus would try to ‘take charge’ with their son, too, as if he expected Harry to take a backseat.

He looked up to see that Severus was leaning dangerously forward, like he used to when he tried to intimidate Harry as a student, only he looked as furious as Harry felt. The beating of his heart was loud within his ears, so that he wondered whether his husband was as deafened by his own heart in the process, but Severus always claimed to have perfect control of his emotions and probably wouldn’t admit it even if he did. Harry’s mouth ran dry and he began to sweat, whilst Severus leaned forward even more and cast him in a dark shadow, and black curtains of hair fell forward to hide Severus’ face from view. Harry clenched and unclenched his hands, caught between grabbing his husband and pushing him away.

“I am not having this discussion!” Severus snapped.

Severus gave a wince and leaned back, as he placed a hand to his stomach. The sight of Severus in pain – as well as the fear that their son could be hurt – was enough to make Harry try to climb out of his seat, but Severus only spun around and pushed an open palm immediately before his face. It was enough to knock his glasses askew, as he bumped into it, and forced him back upon his buttocks, and – as he adjusted his glasses – Severus began to draw in deep breaths and stood tall again, with his free hand rubbing small circles on the left side of his stomach. It was possible the baby only kicked hard due to the adrenaline rush.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked quietly.

“I am fine, Potter! The question is: are you?” Severus pointed a finger an inch from Harry’s nose. “Let us ignore my age or looks. Let us ignore the fact I was your teacher. Do you really seek to enter a romantic entanglement with the man that _killed_ your parents? Do you?”

“Are you _ever_ going to let yourself move forward? You accuse me of sticking to old prejudices and believing what I want, but what about you? You do the exact same thing! You think that you’re so irredeemable and evil, so – so what are you doing to do? Are you _never_ going to let yourself love or be loved? Are you _always_ going to put yourself in a situation where you can be hurt . . . killing Dumbledore, nearly dying at the hands of Nagini, carrying this child . . . you’ve paid for your past ten times over!

“It was Peter that betrayed my parents! It was Voldermort that killed them! You – you told Dumbledore when you realised what would happen, plus you tried to save my mother, and maybe you screwed up in a way that can’t be undone, but . . . their blood isn’t on your hands alone! You’ve spent nearly _two decades_ paying for your sins! Isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t know. You tell me, Harry. What is the exact cost of a human life?”

“My mother wouldn’t want you to suffer forever.”

The way Severus’ lip curled made it clear the discussion was soon to be over, especially when he looked on the point of either crying or exploding, and – in all honesty – Harry could only remember the older man technically crying _once_ in all the years they knew one another. Severus continued to massage his stomach through his robes, as he spun around and began to pace somewhat, and Harry swore – if through some large miracle they stayed together – that he would be the one to carry their next child. The older man seemed to suffer.

“What do _you_ know about what Lily would want?” Severus asked.

Harry winced, as he watched Severus pace. The way he asked the question was both filled with sorrow and loaded with hostility, so that Harry felt an empty sense of longing that he would never know his mother, and how she would never see her grandson. There was something rather devastating about the fact that she wouldn’t see the young boy playing on his first toy-broom, much like how Harry did as a child according to others and photographs. It was true that he wouldn’t know her personally, but he did know what others said . . .

“I know she was loving and forgiving,” muttered Harry.

“Yes, something _you_ inherited in bucketfuls.” Severus gave him a cold look. “If there is someone that you ‘like’, it most certainly isn’t me. _I saw you, Potter!_ I saw you kiss that redheaded Weasley girl! I saw the way you ran to her!”

Harry felt his blood run cold. The realisation that Severus _saw_ that was heart breaking, but it explained so much . . . it explained why Severus avoided him since Christmas, just as it explained his bad attitude, and it even explained why he was so reluctant to believe anything Harry said about his feelings. It was entirely his fault, because if he hadn’t kissed Ginny so childishly out of sheer emotion -! It – it was like when he thought Sirius to be in mortal danger, only this time he should have _known_ better than to act first and think later!

It would take time to undo the damage, but he would have to start by reassuring Severus that the kiss meant nothing. The fact was that he broke his vows; he _swore_ to be faithful to Severus, even if there was nothing romantic between them when those vows were made, and he broke his word to the one person who valued consistency and trust more than anything. That wasn’t to mention that breaking the terms of the decrees -! Luckily the kiss wasn’t known to anyone but the three of them, because if the Ministry heard about it then it could result in a world of trouble. The law was recently repealed, though, so maybe it wouldn’t mean Azkaban . . . maybe Severus would just leave him . . . somehow that felt worse.

“I’m not in love with Ginny,” said Harry.

“Let’s face it, you would have married her if not for me!”

“Yeah, well, maybe I would have, but I’ve learned that it’s possible to love again! It’s possible to love more than one person, too! I thought I was in love with Ginny, maybe I was, but it feels different to what I feel for you . . . maybe it was a crush, maybe it was just a different sort of love, but I know what I feel for you is _real_. It scares me that you could have died, that maybe I would have been with Ginny, because I wonder how much I would have grown or matured or learned from her . . . you’ve been _infuriating_ , but you’re good for me.

“I kissed Ginny because I was confused! I wanted to be sure what I felt for you! I wanted to _hurt_ you, because you hurt me! I know that was wrong, just as I know that I should have just talked about it with you, but – like I said – I messed up and I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again because I respect you! I didn’t kiss her because I loved her, I kissed her because I _wanted_ to love her, but I don’t! I don’t love Ginny! I’m not in love with her! I’m in -!”

He stopped himself mid-sentence. The words came spilling out of him before he even processed them, before he even knew what he was saying . . . the realisation that suddenly he _knew_ how he felt made his heart stop in his chest. He lost his breath and doubled over, whilst Severus took advantage of the silence to rear on him and lean down into his personal space. It took only a second for Severus’ hands to wrap around the arms of the chair, as his face – now white and with lips pressed into a tight line – leaned only a few inches from him.

“Finish that sentence,” said Severus sternly.

“No. It’s nothing, honestly.”

“ _Finish the sentence_.”

“Make me!”

Severus breathed heavily. Harry could feel that breath hot and moist upon his face, as a lock of hair fell down and brushed against his cheek awkwardly, and – again caught between anger and desire – he was forced to bite his lip until he tasted blood. He wanted Severus to just back away and give him space, so they could _talk_ and work through their issues, but if Severus wanted him to finish his thought -? He couldn’t. There was no way he could finish that thought when it was the first time he ever thought it . . .

The beating of his heart was almost unbearable, but so too was being so damned close to Severus! He couldn’t push him away without risking harm to the baby, but he couldn’t pull him forward without disrespecting him and his feelings, and just sitting still made him feel infuriatingly _trapped_! Those black eyes seemed to be boring into him, perhaps looking into his mind for past conversations or something to discredit what he said, and maybe he looked for something more such as the end to that sentence, but – no matter how hard Harry wanted to force him out – he never mastered the art of Occlumency. He swallowed hard and felt Severus lean a further inch closer. It made him raise his head just slightly

It was then that Severus pulled away. Harry let out a deep breath that he didn’t realise he held, only to see that Severus wore an indecipherable expression and rubbed absentmindedly at his stomach with a raised eyebrow, until he stepped back and shook his head with a dark gaze. There was a tension in the air that Harry hated, so that he made to stand up once more to try and rectify the situation, but Severus raised a shaking hand and gestured to him to stay put, so that Harry fell back into his chair and looked embarrassedly to the floor. He waited for Severus to break the silence, but – when he did – the words he said were cold and quiet.

“This conversation is over,” said Severus.

The older man marched out of the laboratory. It disorientated him slightly, as one moment Severus was there and the next he wasn’t, and – abruptly – he was out of sight and apparently making his way upstairs to his private rooms. Harry climbed to his feet and followed quickly, as a part of him worried with the speed that his husband moved. Severus still suffered a slight limp, made worse by the swollen stomach and extra weight, and to see him with robes billowing out was rather worrying. It was clear Severus was determined to reach privacy.

It must have been difficult for him to move so quickly, especially to stay ahead of Harry and to avoid being caught, and – by the time Harry reached the top of the stairs – his husband was already locked within his bedroom. Harry ran the last few steps down the hallway and made to open the door, but it was locked and nothing would work short of _Alohomora_ , and he was extremely reluctant to try such a spell when Severus clearly needed space. He knocked the door, only to hear the scrape of a chair and the sound of parchment, so that clearly his husband was intent on studying or working, and – as Harry knocked over and over – he realised that the conversation really was over. He felt an intense wave of guilt.

“Severus, just let me in! I’m sorry!”

He turned around and collapsed against the door. The sounds from within were hard to decipher, but he knew that Severus was blatantly ignoring him at this point, and so there was nothing else to do except to slide to the floor and think about his next move. He knew that he needed to mature and hold his anger in check, but that wouldn’t undo the damage already done. Harry turned his head and let his cheek press against the cool wood, as he thought about how Severus demanded he earlier finish his thought. Harry whispered quietly:

“I’m in love with you . . .”

 

 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

# Chapter Thirteen

Harry looked pleadingly to Hermione.

It was a relief to finally be in the company of his two friends, especially when their new careers meant that work often clashed and less time was spent together, and it was enough to almost make him miss their school years. There was something a little depressing about growing up and growing apart; they would always love one another and be family to each other, but these days it meant _scheduling_ time together, instead of simply spending all day and every day in each other’s company. It was lonely to rely on himself so much.

He missed the advice of Hermione and their walks along the grounds, just as he missed staying up late with Ron and talking about nothing and everything, and – whilst he could turn to Severus for most things – things were still _very_ tense between himself and his husband. He _desperately_ needed some advice, so he felt an intense relief that his friends could finally spend the morning with him. Hermione sat at the bay windows in the front reception room, as she flicked through some marking that Harry brought home with him, and Ron sat – still in work robes – with a copy of the _Prophet_ on his lap, as he took up most of the comfortable armchair nearby. They both looked so calm, but inside he felt such turmoil . . .

“It’s possible that he hasn’t seen the _Prophet_ yet,” said Hermione.

The young woman flicked through a few papers, as she used a quill to underline parts . . . it irked Harry, because he knew that they were _already_ marked. It was probably a blessing that she wasn’t changing the grades, but it was still frustrating to have her add to the comments and corrections, as if he weren’t yet capable of marking a paper on his own. It reminded him of how Molly would open the oven to ‘check’ on the food he was cooking, whenever he invited her family for dinner, or how Severus would take over whenever he tried to make a potion. Luckily, Ron distracted them both with a slight snort.

“What was that for, Ron?”

“Well, the paper gets delivered each morning, right?” Ron asked. “I spent seven years sharing with Harry, so I know that he won’t be the first one up! I bet Snape’s already read the paper and had his coffee by the time Harry’s even brushed his teeth! Hell, he used to be a spy and everything . . . he probably goes into the village and school all the time, just to keep up-to-date with things! No way he hasn’t seen it!”

“He’s right,” muttered Harry. “Severus likes some routine, but today he’s spent all morning locked in his office! I’m just glad I don’t have any classes today, because I’m starting to get worried. It’s nearly lunchtime now. He has to come out some time, right?”

“I think I heard him come downstairs, mate. He might be avoiding you.”

“Brilliant. Bloody brilliant!”

Harry fell back against the sofa, as he ran a hand through his black hair. He looked at the newspaper, which Ron threw lazily onto a nearby table, and saw the moving photograph of Severus walking – with slight limp and swollen stomach – into _Ceridwen’s Cauldrons_. There was snow on the ground, whilst Severus was wearing a robe that stopped fitting him only a fortnight ago, and so it was clearly a recent photograph, probably taken after Severus’ last proper visit into the village. He usually left only to visit McGonagall or _J. Pippin’s Potions_.

The headline was somewhat offensive in itself, but the article listed detailed speculations about their relationship and guesses about their unborn child, and – all in all – it was nothing but a sensationalist piece suited for a supermarket tabloid. It made him feel sick that he had dragged Severus into such a life, especially when he couldn’t remember his husband _ever_ being in the paper before the war ended. Harry was used to it, including the lies and scandals and rumours, but Severus _wasn’t_ and he also valued _privacy_ . . . the Fidelius charm had some benefits, but it couldn’t protect Severus against malicious hearsay and gossip.

It was then that Hermione gave a low sigh, before she placed the papers down beside her and looked sideways at the open door to the room. Harry followed her gaze, but he couldn’t see anyone and only heard the sound of the kitchen door as it slammed shut, and he realised that his husband was milling about. Hermione was probably worried about being overheard, but – with things as they were – Harry didn’t want it to seem as if he had anything to hide, plus he wanted Severus to know he was welcome to join them at any time.

“How are things other than that?” Hermione asked.

She nodded at the newspaper, until Harry felt his cheeks flush and reached out to flip it over, unable to bear staring at the lies any longer. It was strange to think that Skeeter could criticise his choices over a law that was forced on him, followed by criticising his choice to stay married once the law was repealed, and it felt like every choice he made was the wrong one according to the papers. That wasn’t to mention the ‘biography’ of him that the cow published or _Severus Snape: Scoundrel or Saint_ that was published only recently, with the latter angering him enough to attempt legal action. He wished the papers would _stop_.

“You mean with Severus?” Harry asked in turn.

“Well, that was what I hinting at, yes,” she replied with a smile.

“It’s hard to tell, to be honest. He came out of his bedroom on his birthday, pretended like I never said anything about liking him, and then sort of acted . . . _weird_. We’ve been getting on really well, actually, ever so civil, but -! There’s like this elephant in the room! He won’t talk about it, but it’s clear that it’s bugging him. He’s kind of _too_ polite, if that makes sense? It’s like he’s put up a wall and won’t let me in! I think I’d rather if he _did_ scream and shout.”

“Sounds like you should just enjoy it while it lasts,” said Ron. “I’ll admit Snape’s a lot scarier when he’s all polite and stuff, but you _want_ to get on, right? If you keep prodding and poking at it, you’ll only piss him off again. I recon he’ll talk to you when he wants to.”

“I – er – got him something for Valentine’s next week.” Harry blushed and looked down. “I know it sounds stupid, but I _really_ screwed up before his birthday, so I thought – maybe – it’d be a good step in the right direction. It – it’s just some rare ingredients and things, but I figured maybe it’d show I’m interested in him as a person, not as some ideal . . .”

“Did either of you stop to think _why_ Severus is acting this way?” Hermione asked, as she turned to face them properly. “Look, it seems to me that Ron assumes Severus doesn’t care, whilst you assume that you can somehow win him over . . . did _either_ of you stop to think that _maybe_ he’s already been won over? _Don’t laugh at me, Ronald!_ I mean it! I’ve been talking to Professor McGonagall quite regularly, I’ve actually even managed to speak to Professor Snape a handful of times, and – well – I think it’s quite possible.”

Harry blushed at the suggestion. He looked nervously to the door, as he thought about the times where Severus made it clear how he felt, whether that was outright hatred or reluctant respect, and – whilst they were getting on better – there was nothing to suggest that Severus loved him. There was so much that changed during the war, but had Severus changed _that_ much . . . enough he could feel for Harry? A brief memory of a conversation between Severus and Dumbledore flashed into his mind, where Severus outright said that he didn’t want to do what he must, but was forced into it anyway. What if he stayed with Harry out of force, too?

“Don’t be daft!” Ronald said with a laugh. “When would he have started feeling that? He found out about the marriage – when – April last year? That’s nearly a whole year! It’s taken him _this_ long just to start being civil with Harry! There’s no way that’s love!”

“Well, how long did it take _us_ to start dating?” Hermione asked. “I just think you’re both missing out on the obvious. Severus is -! Severus is a _very_ complex person, so much so that – just when I think I’ve come to understand him – he’ll constantly cause me to doubt myself and question all my previous assumptions. Do neither of you honestly think it’s a little odd that he claimed the potion tasted like treacle tart? The conception potion is supposed to be like Amortentia, at least insofar as its taste is –”

“Different according to the desires of the person taking it?” Harry finished. “Yeah, but that doesn’t necessarily have to mean anything! He said it tasted like fire whiskey, too, which makes sense as he loves the stuff. Just because I haven’t _seen_ him eat a treacle tart, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t one of his favourite foods . . . I haven’t eaten one in ages anyway.”

“Yes, but they _are_ your favourite, Harry. There’s no denying that!”

“It’s probably just a coincidence,” he muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked at him sternly. It reminded him so much of their time at school, because – as close as they were – they held a very different friendship to that of himself and Ron. He loved Hermione to pieces, but she was such a serious soul and seemed to analyse everything, to the extent that he couldn’t just vent or rant like he could with Ron, because every problem _needed_ a solution. A part of him wanted so much to believe her, but he couldn’t help but feel she was over-thinking things . . . Severus just didn’t feel that way.

She sat somewhat awkwardly at the window, whilst Ron looked uncomfortably about the room, and it was then that Harry felt a chill. There was a cold draught that blew through the reception room, enough that he brought his arms about himself to fight off the sudden cold, and he realised that Severus must have opened a window or door in the kitchen, which made him worry momentarily whether his husband was okay. It would probably seem rude to leave midway during a conversation to check why Severus needed air, so he instead looked back to Hermione and saw that she was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and something like a pout. He wondered whether she knew something he didn’t, which seemed likely.

“Honestly, you accuse _Severus_ of repressing his feelings,” said Hermione.

“Yeah, well, he does! It’s like he doesn’t think he deserves to be loved or something,” muttered Harry. “He ignores me whenever I try to express how I feel, as if it’s impossible for someone like me to love someone like him. It’s . . . frustrating.”

“Oh, Harry . . . you’re far too similar than you realise. If you ask me, I think Severus has felt the same way for a very long time, but he’s simply a lot better at hiding his true feelings and motivations. You’ve always been very open about how you feel, but I think Severus prefers that people just assume he’s cold and indifferent, because that way -!” Hermione paused and looked downwards sadly. “That way no one knows the truth.”

The silence that fell was awkward to say the least. Harry felt a heavy sense of dread, as her words struck something inside of him, and – as he processed what she said – the draught stopped and he heard the sound of what was likely a window closing. It was still strange to hear the sounds of another person, as well as to share a house with someone in such a way, and – even though he grew up with the Dursley family and in a dormitory – it was _different_ with Severus. It felt more like a comfort knowing he was there. Ron broke the silence with a long sigh, as he looked to Harry and then to Hermione. He asked firmly:

“The truth being that he fancies Harry?”

“Do either of you really want to hear this?” Hermione looked to both of them. “I know Ron has the emotional depth of a teaspoon, whilst you were hardly the most observant student, but surely you can’t be this oblivious to what Severus is feeling? He’s _hurting_ , Harry!”

It was clear that she was worried. Hermione looked to him almost pleadingly, as her curly hair fell about her face and forced her to push a lock back. The sunlight streamed in through the window behind her, which cast her expression into shadow and gave her an odd aura, and it stung his eyes just slightly. He felt hurt in turn, because the very last thing he wanted was for Severus to be in pain of any kind, but he couldn’t remember Severus expressing anything other than forced civility in the past few weeks. Harry squinted as he looked to Hermione.

“He seems fine to me, just . . . annoyed,” said Harry.

“Harry, he’s _finally_ starting to see you for your own person! He’s not seeing you as just a replica of your father, nor is he seeing you as an extension of your mother, but instead as a unique individual. I think _that’s_ why he’s so hurt! He started to like you, enough that the taste of the potion reminded him of you, and I would imagine it grew from there, what with being in close contact and all. I would guess he started to fall for you, but then he saw the kiss.

“Come on, Harry! You _know_ how painful that is! You saw me in tears when Ron would go off with Lavender, just as I know how much it drove you insane to see Ginny with Dean and the others! He’s a very private man. I imagine that he never assumed he would live long enough to have a family, especially when – by all rights – he should have died that night, and he spent most of his life in the servitude of others and trying to make amends for his past, and that’s just the start of it! Imagine _finally_ growing to trust someone, to _finally_ start to have feelings for someone, but – but someone that you feel _beneath_ -!

“I imagine that he thought you could never love him, because you both had such a volatile past and he did admittedly do some awful things . . . he probably thought you couldn’t forgive him, because I imagine he can’t forgive himself, and if he can’t forgive himself -?” Hermione shook her head sadly. “That isn’t to mention about the names we called him at school, plus he was bullied too, wasn’t he? I bet he’s convinced himself that he’s worthless . . . expendable and replaceable, even . . . it would explain why he did the missions he did.”

“So what?” Ron asked. “You think he thinks he hasn’t a chance?”

“Well, yes, but when he saw the kiss . . .”

Harry winced in realisation. He looked again to the doorway and realised that Hermione was right, because Severus suffered just as much as any of them, perhaps more than some of them, and his actions were probably no better than dozens of others that mistreated Severus in the decades before him. It was possible that Severus never hoped for anything like trust or love, especially when habit and history taught him that those things weren’t for him, but no doubt seeing that kiss drilled into his head just what he was missing . . .

It probably _did_ feel like their fifth year felt to Hermione and Harry, when they saw the people they loved with other people, and it probably hurt more to feel that he would never experience love or romance, with the kiss reminding him of everything he would never have and everything he wanted. Harry rolled his eyes at himself and shook his head. It felt stupid to assume that Severus would feel that way, because the older man gave no indication that he ever wanted or needed those things, but at the same time . . . what if Severus _had_ allowed himself to hope for more? The pain at the possibility or realisation of something so desperately wanted being snatched away . . . it probably hurt more than never having it at all.

“I confirmed his worst fears,” whispered Harry.

Harry fell back against the sofa, as he looked at the photographs on the wall taken during their wedding. They looked both so smart and so handsome in their robes, but there was uncertainty in both their eyes, which was barely hidden even through the forced smiles and close proximity. He made a _promise_ to be faithful. He even _swore_ on paper according to the decrees. This would have been bad enough in any other circumstance, but when Severus was already in such a fragile place -? Ron cleared his throat and shook Harry from his thoughts.

“Now the law’s been repealed,” said Ron, “if you guys wanted to annul –”

_‘Harry, there is a letter for you. It’s marked “urgent”.’_

Severus appeared in the doorway. It was enough to make Harry smile on the sight of him, especially when he could see the swell of their child underneath the many layers. There was no way of hiding the fact that Severus was clearly trying to conceal the pregnancy as best as he could, at least judging by the extra-long robes and the cloak drawn around him, and the high collar hid the scar upon his neck well. The only inch of skin – other than his face – was the one hand that escaped through the gap in his robe to hold a new piece of parchment.

He watched as his husband marched over, with barely any trace of a limp and yet a strain to his now white lips, and he wanted nothing more than to get up and go over to Severus, so as to save him from the strain of pretending that he was in perfect health. The problem was that Severus despised pity more than he did his self-consciousness, and so Harry stayed put until his husband thrust the paper at him. Harry took it gently and said ‘thank you’ with absolute sincerity, but already Severus turned to leave and was out in the hall before Harry could even so much as sigh or ask him about his health. He almost _missed_ Severus’ sarcasm.

“What does it say?” Ron asked.

“It’s – it’s from Ginny,” muttered Harry, as he quickly looked at the letter distractedly. It took only a few moments to read it fully. “It’s a goodbye letter. It says that she’ll always hold me dear and always love me, but she knows that it can’t work out . . . she wants to remain friends, which is good. I don’t really want to lose her as a friend, you know?”

“Yes,” said Hermione. “Ginny said that she was thinking of sending one. Closure.”

“It’s something we agreed on. I sent her one, too.”

Ron knitted his eyebrows in confusion, and then leaned forward to take the letter from Harry’s hands. Their break-up was hardly a secret, whilst Ginny didn’t disclose any particularly personal information, so he let his best friend take the paper and read it. It was strange to receive a formal confirmation that their relationship was over, but _freeing_ at the same time. He realised that Severus likely opened the window for the owl, which explained the earlier draught, and saw Hermione looked at him with a sympathetic expression.

“Did it help?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Harry. “I told her everything that I felt about Severus, as well as how I would always love her, but . . . I don’t know, Hermione. I just wrote and wrote, told her about how we both needed to move on, and how I wish she’ll be happy. I’ve never really been one for long letters, but something just compelled me to write it. I owed her that much. I think she’s right . . . both of us writing a formal ‘goodbye’ gives us closure.”

“I think that’s quite wise, Harry. It’s about time you both moved on with your lives, as you really do both deserve to be happy. It’ll be good for Severus, too, because it wasn’t really fair to keep him in such a state of limbo . . . he deserves to know where he stands.”

“Hey, guys,” interrupted Ron, “was this open when you got it?”

“What do you mean, Ronald?”

Ron handed the letter back to Harry, who looked at it properly, and – when he did – he realised that it was simply a piece of parchment folded up without any sort of envelope. He flipped it over and looked all over, but there wasn’t anything that gave a sign that it came in anything. The likelihood was that Severus opened it whilst in the kitchen, or that Ginny came around the back way to give the note in person, and both of those options made his blood run cold for a brief moment. He wondered whether Ginny and Severus spoke in person.

“It wasn’t in an envelope or anything,” said Harry quietly.

“Right, so you recon Severus read it first?” Ron nodded at the parchment. “I mean, I would have read it in his place. The guy looked a bit pissed, too, right? It wasn’t just me who saw that? The bloody thing reads like a _love letter_ , Harry! Yeah, _we_ know it’s a goodbye letter, but Ginny hasn’t actually once _said_ goodbye! She’s only said she can’t be with you, like the only reason she can’t is because Snape’s in the way. It’s no wonder he seemed pissed.”

“Oh God, you’re right, Ron!” Hermione interjected. “If he read this only a couple months after the kiss -! He probably thinks that you’re still in love with Ginny! He probably thinks he’s in the way and you’re just settling because of the baby! You have to speak to him before he decides to annul or worse! You know how he thinks, Harry!”

“I got to admit, mate, I absolutely hate the bastard. Still, I know that for some crazy reason you’re into him, so – I’m going to hate myself for saying this – you need to sort things out between you. You’re going to lose him else. You _sure_ you want him?”

“I’m sure, Ron,” said Harry. “I really do love him.”

Harry saw Ron bite his lip to refrain from speaking out, as he seemed desperate to criticise or argue with Harry about his romantic interest in their ex-teacher, but he kept quiet out of respect for his friend. It meant a lot to him to have his friend’s support, especially knowing that they didn’t quite approve of his choice, as it was that unconditional love that he craved all his life, and it was exactly what a family was supposed to feel like. He wanted Severus to feel that way, too, rather than that he was a burden . . . he was anything but a burden.

“I’ve got to make things right,” said Harry. “He _has_ to know the truth!”

There was a look from Ron that meant so many things, as he apparently fought with so many conflicting emotions, and from Hermione there was a sad smile that made him feel less alone, as he knew that she would fight his side for as long as he felt passionately about it and wasn’t hurting himself or Severus in the process. He cast a brief glance to the newspaper on the table, before he reached out to flick it over and looked at the picture of Severus. It reminded him exactly of what he stood to lose, as well as everything Severus already sacrificed.

He stood up and mentally planned his next steps, because to leave things like this for much longer would jeopardise his relationship. It was one thing for Severus to want to avoid the subject, but he couldn’t avoid it forever, and it would only hurt them both if he kept on trying to avoid it. Harry turned and looked towards the doors, where he heard the sounds of Severus preparing a potion from within his laboratory, and soon the scent of potion fumes would begin to fill the hall, as his husband still seemed to lack the respect to keep doors closed, as if he purposely sought to annoy Harry as much as possible. It was likely in spite, now he thought about what Hermione said, which made finding a solution even more important.

“Do you think he’ll believe me?” Harry asked.

Hermione gave a low sigh, as she stood up in turn and let her hand rest upon the homework beside her, before her eyes too turned to the newspaper and she seemed saddened suddenly by the sight of it. It was then that she walked over to him and put her hand out to touch his arm, whilst she nodded to Ron and the redheaded man got up in turn to wander over, before he patted Harry on the back and whispered ‘good luck’ before heading out into the hall, where he seemed to wait patiently for his girlfriend so they could leave together.

“I think this has gone on for too long,” said Hermione sadly. “You need to make it clear what you feel, so that he can either reciprocate or move on. This isn’t healthy for either of you, but he’s probably confused right now and believes the worst. Talk to him.”

It was then that she gave him a warm embrace, before she took his hand and led him out into the hall, where Ron handed her over her coat and gave Harry a hug in turn. He felt so infinitely grateful for their company and advice, just as he made a mental note to pay them back in some way for their kindness, and he realised just how important it was to make things up with his husband. They needed to reconcile. They needed to start afresh.

“Thanks,” he said. “Thank you, both of you.”

He left to find Severus.

 

 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

# Chapter Fourteen

“Severus? Severus!”

Harry heard the front door close, as Hermione and Ron left his home. The sudden silence was somewhat disconcerting, especially when he was so used to the sounds that his husband made and the conversation of his friends, but there was the hope that with the silence there would come a lack of distractions. He stood still within the hall for a long moment, as he sought to process his thoughts and feelings, but he knew what needed to be done. He needed Severus to know that he was a priority. He needed Severus to know he _loved_ him.

The most likely place to find Severus would be the laboratory, although the thought of heading into there – especially with Severus so angry – made his heart begin to race, and he felt a strange wave of nervousness that made him feel suddenly so weak. He remembered feeling that way before the tasks of the Triwizard Tournament, where he wondered before each one whether he would even survive, but this was _different_ and yet somehow evoked such similar feelings, because – although his life wasn’t at risk – so much was on the line. It was enough to make him look to the laboratory doors with something akin to fear, as he slowly walked towards them, and he could do nothing but hope for the best.

He quickly made his way over to the laboratory. The room was quiet, even as Harry opened both sets of doors from the hall to get inside, and – once inside – he could see exactly why the room was so quiet . . . Severus wasn’t there. Harry scoured the room just in case, as it was possible that Severus was knelt down somewhere to retrieve an item or organising one of the walk-in cupboards, but a part of him knew that wasn’t the case, especially when it soon became clear that there wasn’t any trace of his husband. He gave a heavy sigh and made his way back into the main hall, where he headed upstairs to their rooms.

“Severus! Can we talk?”

There was surprisingly little noise from upstairs, which sent a cold chill through Harry’s body, as there wasn’t a time where he could remember Severus being so absolutely silent. Severus would pace even at night, as if he couldn’t break the habit of patrolling corridors or sleeping at irregular hours, and most of his free time was spent brewing or writing, but there wasn’t even the sound of a quill scratching upon parchment. There was nothing. It was no longer nervousness that caused his heart to race, but absolute dread and a sense of loss.

He ran the last few steps to Severus’ door, where – stuck to the door with the end of a penknife – was a folded piece of paper. Harry stared at it for a long minute. It took him a while to process what he saw, even as he saw the familiar handwriting of the Half-Blood Prince upon the folded page, where his name sat large and clear as day. He felt a horrible sinking in his stomach, which caused him to expel a heavy breath with a loud sigh, and he reached out to rip down the paper with a shaking hand. The pressure of his hand against the door caused it to move, which encouraged Harry to push it open. Severus’ wasn’t there.

“ _Shit_ ,” snapped Harry. “You’ve got to be joking!”

The room still held all Severus’ possessions, but a trunk was missing and so was a selection of robes from his cupboard. There were an array of leftover robes on the bed, which were likely the ones that no longer fit, with – which was the part that made Harry feel sick to his stomach – the bottle of fire whiskey sat unopened on the pillow, as if to make an obvious statement to whomever should enter. Harry raised his hand to his mouth and retched slightly, whilst the parchment in his other hand rustled loudly, enough that he felt himself distracted by it and lifted it to unfold it. It was hard to read with eyes blurred with tears.

‘ _Harry,_

‘ _There is very little reason for myself to stay_.

‘ _I read Ginevra’s letter. I saw the kiss. I have no interest in being the person responsible for keeping you from your happiness, especially when the press already seeks to demonise me on your behalf. It would be detrimental to the both of us to remain together. I would be forever seen as the villain that ensnared you, whilst you would forever yearn for the woman that you love and were perhaps destined to marry. It is better for us both_.

‘ _Do you perhaps remember the story of the three brothers? I lived too much in the past, as I sought to chase ghosts of those I loved, and – as much as it grieves me to admit this – I chased a spectre with our marriage. I believed it to be something of substance, not of shadow. This was my failing. I apologise for any suffering I put upon you_.

‘ _The law has now been repealed. Go to the one you seek_.

‘ _I will send a house-elf for my things in the morning_.

‘ _Sincerely, Severus_.’

Harry realised he was crying. He let the parchment fall from his hands, where it drifted through the air and fell to the floor, and – as he felt an intense rush of guilt – there came a desperate fear about their child. Severus didn’t mention their son once, but he knew that he took their son’s welfare extremely seriously. It was possible that his husband would send word about their son with the house-elf the next day, but he didn’t want to correspond by owls and elves . . . he wanted a husband and a partner . . . he wanted the love he felt for Severus and to share that love with him. He was too late.

He walked further into Severus’ room and looked about, as he lifted his glasses to wipe away the tears from his cheeks. It was difficult to remain calm, as his hand felt icy cold and his throat felt tight, but he managed to stop shaking long enough to sit on Severus’ bed and look about the room. There was a copy of the _Prophet_ upon his bedside table, where the moving photograph of Severus looked out from the page, and – the sight of which nearly broke him entirely – there was a framed photograph of their wedding sitting just behind it.

Hermione was right. This _did_ mean something to Severus.

Only now it was too late . . .

* * *

“It’s been a month, Hermione! A month!”

Harry dug his hands into his hair and yanked hard. He paced back and forth across the living room, which felt so much colder now that Severus was gone . . . there was no longer the heavy scent of potions in the air, just as it was no so difficult to sleep without the sounds of his husband wandering or working, and he felt so _restless_ lately! The house was far messier than it ought to be, because he could barely work up the energy to _teach_ , let alone to clean, but it didn’t seem to matter now that Severus was no longer there. It felt pointless.

It was then he saw Teddy reach up to Harry from Hermione’s lap, as he opened and closed his fists in grabbing motions, and – over and over – he said ‘no’ with a bright smile, which was his favourite word as of late. The sight of him brought a few tears to Harry’s eyes. He raced over and swept Teddy up from Hermione’s lap, where he held Teddy tightly and buried his teary eyes against his godson’s head. The scent of baby-shampoo was strong, which only served to remind him of his unborn son that would soon be with them, only with Severus still missing there was no way of knowing how his son was doing, and it was heartbreaking. He saw Hermione give a sad smile, as she sat helplessly at the sofa.

“Is there still no word about him?” Hermione asked.

“None!” Harry felt his voice break. “Our baby is due in May and he’s still -! _I’ve tried, Hermione_! I’ve been to Grimmauld Place, to Spinner’s End, to my old flat and his flat, just in case he went to either of those, and I’ve been to Hogwarts every day! I’ve left letters with the few friends he has left, which includes Draco, and – believe me – that was _the_ worst and most awkward conversation I’ve ever had! I’ve even filed a report with the muggle police!”

“He must be somewhere close by, Harry! The few owls he’s sent have only taken a day at most to go between the two of you, whilst there’s no way he would risk being too far from St Mungo’s in his condition. I’ve exhausted every contact I have at the Ministry, but it really seems like Severus doesn’t want to be found . . . has he said _anything_ to you in his letters?”

“Only that he doesn’t want to annul. He wants our son to be born in wedlock, but says we can divorce once he’s born. He says we can work out joint custody, but -! He’s been sending back every single one of my letters unopened! He’s not even reading what I say!”

“He’s clearly taken this badly. I’m sure he’ll read them once he’s processed his feelings.”

“Will he, though? What if he hires a mediator to work out the custody?”

“You’re having a _child_ together. He’ll have to see you at some point.”

Hermione gave him a stern look, as he bounced the chattering toddler on his hip, and he realised that she was as stressed as he felt. This wasn’t easy on anyone. Ron – despite looking to quit being an auror – spent most of his time searching for Severus, too, and those like Molly and Minerva and even Malfoy were bombarded with daily questions from Harry, just in case his husband got in touch with them. They were working hard to find Severus, just as they were worried for him and worried on Harry’s behalf . . . it wasn’t easy by far.

It broke Harry’s heart to be in such a position; he felt so helpless and so trapped, unable to do anything except send letter after letter after letter, but each and every one came back to him in its original state unread. If he could just _talk_ to Severus -! Harry shook his head and moved to sit in the nearby armchair, where he cradled Teddy to him and tried to hide his tears by burying his head against his godson, and he tried to focus on the sounds the boy made and Hermione’s breathing, as he sought for some distraction. Hermione was right that it would be impossible to raise a child together _without_ seeing one another, as school events or birthdays meant they would _need_ to spend time in each other’s presence, but -!

The atmosphere was tense and awkward, but Harry suffered with many sleepless nights and nightmares in the past few weeks, as such he realised that it was possible his perceptions were somewhat askew. There were bags under his eyes, which were somewhat red, and it was affecting his lessons . . . already the Gryffindor students were taking advantage of his distraction, which was somewhat embarrassing when he hoped to eventually take over as head of house. Teddy began to chant on his lap ‘my-knee’, as he bounced and waved to the young woman not too far away. Harry gave a broken smile and ruffled his hair.

“I don’t know what to do,” said Harry sadly.

Teddy mumbled incoherently to himself, until Harry set him down on the floor, where he crawled over to a play-mat and began to amuse himself with some blocks, and – as he carefully watched his godson – he saw Hermione reached out to a table nearby. There were a stack of newspapers and letters, as well as some paperwork from the Ministry, and she seemed to desperately scour them all for any sort of clue as to where Severus could be, but there wasn’t any sign of Severus. It was no wonder he once made such a good spy . . .

“I’ve sent him some letters, too,” said Hermione.

“Yeah? Did he reply to you?” Harry asked. “Did he say anything?”

“No, but he hasn’t returned any of them, which is a good sign. I’m inclined to believe that he’s reading them; I’ve briefly explained about the letter from Ginny, as well as that the kiss was a mistake, and told him that you were looking for him to . . . well . . . confess.”

“I don’t know what’s worse, Hermione: the fact I drove him to leave or the fact he actually left! I can’t believe how much I’ve grown to love him. It’s so weird to be here without him, because I keep expecting to hear his footsteps or his voice or potions bubbling! It isn’t just Severus I’ve lost either . . . it’s our _son_ , too. We have the nursery all set up here, you know? I was hoping we could agree on a name soon, too, but now he’s gone. _They’re_ gone!”

“Harry, he’ll come around, I promise.” Hermione looked to Teddy, who rolled onto his back and began to throw a teddy into the air. “He grew to have such strong feelings for you, more than we thought possible, and he probably feels very hurt and betrayed. The feeling of abandonment and rejection is one of the most painful to endure.”

Harry winced and looked sadly over to Teddy. The sight of his godson only reminded him of his unborn son, which caused him to swallow painfully and blink away some tears. He didn’t want his son born into a broken home, but – more than that – he didn’t want his husband to feel unloved or a burden, and there was no way to get Severus to _listen_ to him. There was no clear way to fix things, but he knew one thing: he loved Severus. It made sense that Severus felt so hurt, but it could be so easily solved with just one explanation!

“I haven’t abandoned him,” he said sadly.

“I know that, but he doesn’t,” answered Hermione. “We just need to work this out _rationally_. Severus doesn’t have many living contacts, whilst he wouldn’t put himself or your son in any danger, so there must be a very limited number of places he can be.”

“Lucius Malfoy wouldn’t even hear me out, but Draco was surprisingly sympathetic. I think – with his own forced marriage and all – he kind of understood, but he swore that he didn’t know where Severus was, only that he got an owl to say Severus was okay and would not be in contact for a while. I’ve even been into his favourite shops every day, but they haven’t seen him and they say they can’t give details about deliveries and addresses! He never even _wanted_ this pregnancy, Hermione, but now he has to do it alone? It’s not right!”

“We’ll find him, I swear. He won’t have to do this alone. The healers are on alert at the infirmaries and St Mungo’s, whilst Ron’s even got the Aurors on lookout, and the charms on the house will alert you should he enter . . . I don’t know what else we can do, Harry. The moment I hear anything, you’ll be the _first_ person I tell. Just try to rest . . .”

“I can’t rest, Hermione! I can’t!” Harry dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t sleep without hearing him moving about the house . . . I can’t eat when I can’t smell the potion fumes . . . I can’t rest until I know he’s safe and I’ve told him how I feel.”

“It’s possible he feels the same way, Harry. I’m sure he’ll come back.”

“I screwed up. I screwed up and now I’ve lost him.”

He felt the tears begin to rise, as he fought back the pain. It was difficult to control what he felt, especially when he never truly had a family before . . . losing Severus felt like losing a piece of himself, which was a feeling he never expected to have for the other man, but – now he felt it – he didn’t want to lose it. He hated himself for having fallen for such a man, one so complex and so antagonistic to his friends, and he could foresee this as the start of a lifetime of drama and conflict, but it also felt _worth_ it. It was something worth fighting for!

It was then that he looked up and saw Teddy toddling towards the sofa, where he eventually lifted his arms for Hermione to pull him up into a hug, and he gave a sad smile at the sight of it, as he wondered just how Severus would be with their son. There was so much that he wanted to share with his family, but that was just it -! He wanted to do them _as_ a family! It wouldn’t be the same to trade off his son with Severus at the end of every so many days, because he wanted Severus there with him, so that they could be there together for all of their son’s first milestones. He rubbed at his eyes and tried to wipe away the tears.

They sat in silence for a while, as Hermione played with Teddy. Harry mentally began to plan how to make amends with his husband, because he wanted nothing more than to win back his trust and prove himself worthy of Severus’ love, and yet the more he dwelled on it the worse the pain became. It was such an unbearable guilt. He swore to be faithful, but – more than that – he spent so many years fighting the Death Eaters and trying to be the hero that people believed him to be, and now it all felt for nothing. He ruined everything and for what -?

“Will you tell him I love him?” Harry asked. “Tell him to come home?”

Hermione looked away from Teddy. The young boy automatically began to whine and his lips began to tremble, which forced her to give him some attention, as she forced a smile and made faces at the young boy with great exaggeration. It was a relief to hear Teddy squeal in delight, but a part of him felt _terrified_ Severus would start to send Hermione’s letters back in turn, furious that Harry could use her to pass along messages, but what else could he do in the given circumstances? Severus was so determined to shut him out.

“I’ll tell him, but I can’t promise anything,” said Hermione.

“Let’s just hope he won’t start ignoring you, too.”

The sadness he felt must have been obvious to her, for at once she moved along the sofa to sit closer to him, where – with a gentle gesture – she reached out to place a hand upon his knee, as he sat hunched over on the armchair. It was something of a reassurance to feel her comfort him, especially when Teddy saw the action and desperately began to reach out in an attempt to copy it. Harry laughed through his tears and reached out to bring his godson into a warm hug, where Teddy hugged him back and eventually patted his cheek hard with a ‘no’, as he tried to command the sadness away. It was heartbreaking and yet warming.

“It’ll be okay, Harry, honestly,” she whispered.

“I can’t lose him. I _can’t_ . . .”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

# Chapter Fifteen

“Severus!”

Harry gazed across to his husband. The older man looked exhausted past all comprehension, so that there were black bags beneath his bloodshot eyes and his hair was slicked to his skull, as the sweat upon his hair and face was still apparent. He looked so _pale_ , too, almost white as a ghost to an unnatural degree, and he breathed so heavily that he seemed . . . sick . . . broken, maybe. There was a gut-wrenching feeling in Harry’s stomach, as he saw those black eyes turn slowly and lazily to him . . . they were unfocused and dilated . . .

It felt strange to see Severus lying in that bed, where he wore only a grey gown that was stuck to him by the sweat, and he seemed to weigh so much less than when Harry last saw him, too, so that the fear Harry felt was almost impossible to suppress. He wanted to cross the ward and embrace Severus, but they parted so badly those two months previous, and his husband refused to read any of his correspondence since . . . it would be inappropriate, surely? Severus lay alone on a bed in the top-right corner of the ward, whilst the other three beds were empty and free from any other patients. The window next to Severus let in little light, as the April showers blurred the pane with all the rain.

“I see that you found me,” muttered Severus.

Harry let out a long sigh, one he didn’t realise he was holding all that time. It was if a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders, so that he could finally breathe, and the sheer relief he felt on seeing Severus was overwhelming, but there was also an intense fear. The last time he saw Severus this way -? He remembered the blood and the emotional conflict; just as he remembered how rapidly cold Severus’ body became, and how he thought he would never see Severus again . . . he couldn’t lose him again! He just couldn’t!

“Yeah, the healers told Hermione . . .”

“I see patient-doctor confidentiality is lacking here,” snapped Severus.

“You were _missing_ , Severus! We have Aurors and police out looking for you!” Harry felt tears begin to fall from his face. “I looked _everywhere_! I’ve been out _every single day_ to places where you might be, to people you might turn to, and to -! _Where were you?_ I was so fucking scared! I thought you might be hurt or our son might -! The – the healers were on alert to tell us the second they heard from you . . . I’m glad they did!”

“I chose to reside at Malfoy Manor for the duration of my pregnancy.” Severus’ head rolled on the pillow, until he stared up at the ceiling. “He lied to you when he said he knew nothing of my whereabouts. Draco – however – did _not_. The relationship between himself and Lucius has been strained since his marriage to Astoria. Now you know.”

“Yeah, now I know . . . _oh god_! Is – is our son okay? It’s -!”

“He’s four weeks early, but he is perfectly fine.”

Harry felt his knees give way. He caught himself against the nearest bed, whilst the rain poured outside and sounded like thunder in his ears. The fear of losing his son was perhaps more than his fear of losing Severus, so much so that he invested a sheer amount of love into the unborn child that he never knew he could possess, and he looked up with watering eyes across the ward to Severus, where he began to cry silently in sheer relief. He didn’t care how he looked. He didn’t care if Severus mocked him. _They were okay_!

“I trust you want to see him,” said Severus.

The words spoken by Severus jolted Harry from his thoughts, as he looked across to see his husband gesture to a small box just underneath the window. It looked almost like a cot, but elevated high to be on the exact level of his husband’s bed, and the sides of it were perfectly clear like glass. Harry – in his desperation to make sure Severus was okay – hadn’t noticed it until that moment, but now he saw it -? He could see the baby within, wrapped in a green-and-silver blanket and with what looked like black hair. His baby boy . . .

It was strange to find his feet moving without his permission. He moved as if on autopilot, as he heard his footsteps on the stone tiles beneath, and soon he was directly in front of his son and looking down at him with eyes filled with tears. The rain became silent in that moment. Harry couldn’t hear or see it, just as he tuned out the sounds of healers running about in the corridors outside, and even Severus – breathing heavily and too tired to move – seemed just outside of his consciousness, somewhere in another world. He looked to his husband for permission to lift their son, and Severus lifted a finger and nodded in unspoken consent.

They remained in a strange state of silence, until Harry carefully placed his hands under his son to lift him. Severus muttered sleepily to support the neck, as well as to be careful of the soft spot upon his head, and his son murmured and gurgled as Harry lifted him, clearly disturbed from his sleep. He was small. Harry didn’t expect him to be so small, but he was so light and tiny and fragile! There was a moment when he opened his eyes briefly, revealing jet black eyes like Severus’, whilst his hair was black and messy like Harry’s . . .

“He’s beautiful,” whispered Harry.

Severus gave a short scoff. He gestured as best as he could to the chair to his left side, where Harry carefully – unable to look anywhere but his son – wandered dazedly around the bed to the other side to sit, and Severus reached out a heavy hand to stroke their son’s cheek, as Harry sat down and rested his son upon his lap. Their son looked strikingly like Harry. He smiled down at the boy, as Severus pulled his arm away, and Harry caught briefly the faded Dark Mark beneath his husband’s sleeve and the paleness to his arm.

“He has – unfortunately – inherited my nose,” said Severus.

“So what?” Harry looked closer and saw that it was slightly large. “He’s absolutely beautiful, Severus. We’re going to have to co-parent together, so can you do me a favour? _Don’t insult yourself like that_. Every time you insult yourself, you insult him, too. He’s a part of you.”

“You would have me claim it to be an attractive feature? I was mocked long enough to know the truth, and – even were I not mocked – I have access to a mirror. It is a shame that he has inherited the worst of me, as he otherwise looks exactly like yourself to the last detail, and I had hoped he would inherit your eyes also. He has my eyes and my nose . . . let us pray he is of strong soul to endure the inevitable bullying. I fear he shall hate me.”

“Hate you for what?” Harry turned to look at Severus. “ _You gave him life!_ You were in no condition to carry a child, whilst I was immature and a bit selfish, and you _gave him life_! You also need to give yourself some more credit . . . you might not be conventionally attractive, but you _are_ attractive. Our son will love you. You’re his father!”

“You are foolishly sentimental. Paternal bonds are not a prerequisite of love.”

“You’re not your father, Severus. You’re _better_ than him.”

Harry thought he saw a wince from his husband, but Severus hid whatever he felt well. He turned his head and looked towards the windowpane, which was enough to make Harry wonder whether he was depressed, and he made a mental note to do all he could to support Severus in every way and form, as well as to ask a healer to check for depression. Severus would need to be emotionally and mentally well to best tend to their son, but he also deserved to be truly happy and enjoy their family. He didn’t deserve to feel so low.

“Don’t get mad, but we still need a name,” said Harry.

It was said so quietly that he wondered whether Severus heard him, but there came a loud sigh from his husband and the other man turned his head back, where he gazed with an indecipherable expression to their son. Harry acted out of instinct. He stood up and carefully positioned himself on the edge of the bed, where he then slid their son onto Severus’ lap, and – as he kept his son’s hand between his two fingers – he carefully watched Severus for his reaction. There was a moment where he thought he sensed fear from his husband, but eventually he let his hand move to rest upon their son’s leg, as his expression softened.

“What do you suggest?” Severus asked.

“I was thinking ‘James Sirius Potter-Snape’,” said Harry.

“Indeed? Here I was thinking such a name bordered on child abuse.” Severus gave a snort and gave an uncharacteristic smile. “I think not, Harry. I hoped – to begin with – that the ‘Snape’ name would die with me, so I will not allow our son to endure the stigma and shame that comes from such a surname. Our son will be ‘Potter’. It is a name that will do him well in the wizarding community, but will blend in well with the muggle world.”

“Did you honestly never think you’d have kids? I know you expected to die during the war, but . . . I don’t know . . . didn’t you ever want a child to carry on your family name? If you would rather them just be ‘Potter’, that’s fine, but we need _forenames_ , too.”

“I am _not_ naming my son after my bully and my attempted murderer!”

“Well, I want to honour my father and godfather!”

The silence that followed was awkward and tense. It made their son stir to hear such raised voices, and Harry at once lifted him up against his chest to rock him back to sleep, but he felt strange taking the child from Severus when Severus may have wanted to comfort him, too. It was difficult to work out a balance between them, but Harry sighed and gently offered his son to his husband, but Severus – still weak and tired – shook his head and instead reached out to stroke his son’s hair while he slept. The small gesture was rather touching.

“A compromise, perhaps?” Severus said.

“What kind of compromise? How can we compromise a name?”

“I will allow ‘James’ as a middle name,” answered Severus with a sigh. “James _was_ your father and – I am told – matured substantially over the years, and it is _hardly_ as though anyone uses their middle names in day-to-day life. There is also a Black family tradition to name their children after constellations and stars . . . it would honour Sirius to follow this tradition, but we need not use his precise name. I thought perhaps ‘Orion’ or ‘Alphard’.”

“Seriously? Orion James or Alphard James? Yeah, because _that’s_ not child abuse,” said Harry with a soft laugh. “Okay, well, Sirius seemed to respect his uncle, but ‘Alphard’ would _really_ stand out in the muggle community. I know Sirius didn’t get on with his parents too much, but Orion is a nice name and it has that connection to Sirius. Orion James Potter?”

“Orion James Potter it is, then.” Severus gave a smirk almost like a smile. “I must say that it is a name that seems to suit our son. If I do return to teaching, I shall enjoy calling out such a name to issue the inevitable detentions that stem from being related to the Chosen One.”

“Hey, he could be in Slytherin. We all know how much you love your snakes.”

“I can see it in his eyes. Orion shall be a Gryffindor.”

Harry laughed again, but the movement of his chest caused Orion to stir, so he forced himself to calm down and pressed a kiss to his son’s hair. He didn’t even give thought about what house their son would be in, but he knew that he didn’t care about such a thing, because he would love his son unconditionally, and there was no shame in either Slytherin or Gryffindor. The young boy gave a wide yawn, which brought tears to Harry’s eyes, and he breathed in deep the scent of his son, as Severus’ fingers brushed accidentally against his own.

“Orion,” whispered Harry. “I can’t believe it.”

He smiled to Severus, who let his hand fall away onto his lap. There were an array of potion vials on the bedside table, right next to the visitor’s chair that Harry sat in just a few moments earlier, and he thought he might have recognised one or two as medicinal potions. One looked like it may have been blood replenishing, another for pain, and he decided to double-check with the healers to make sure his husband was okay. Severus looked so _tired_.

They sat quietly beside one another, as Harry squeezed a little closer, and he felt Severus’ arm against his side and could hear the heavy breaths from his husband. Clearly Severus was still recovering from the birth, else he would have insisted on some space, but Harry was glad for this small intimacy and the chance to bond with his son. He didn’t know who was there for the birth, although he guessed bitterly it was likely Lucius or Narcissa, but he _loathed_ the fact that he was too late to be there for his husband, and he _swore_ to always be there for him from that moment onwards. He would never alienate Severus again. He would never put himself first. He would be the husband and father his family deserved.

“Severus, we need to talk about what’s next . . .”

“I believe joint custody would be most suitable to our situation,” said Severus sadly. “It would enable our son to develop a relationship with the both of us, whilst enabling you to continue your romantic pursuit of Ginevra Weasley. It will be best for Orion.”

“Damn it, Severus!” Harry gave a sigh and leaned back. “The day you ran away, do you know what I was going to do? I was going to tell you the truth! I _know_ Hermione told you what really went on, but you _could_ have heard it from me, if you just stopped _running_! You were right that I need to grow up, but I think you do, too. We need to learn from one another, Severus. That night I kissed Ginny was a mistake; I swear that I would take it back, if I could, but I did it because I was confused and wasn’t sure what I wanted. I know now.

“I know what I want, because what I want is _you_! The letter Ginny sent was a _goodbye letter_. We broke up officially and thought it would be a good idea to send letters, because we could get some closure and let out all our feelings, but neither one of us wants to get back with the other! Ginny’s actually seeing another wizard now, whilst I -!” Harry paused to sigh. “I was going to find you and tell you how I felt . . . I was going to tell you that I wanted us to be a couple, because I have feelings for you. I was going to say that I screwed up and want to make amends. I was going to say that I love you! I – I still want to say it, too.”

Severus said nothing. He simply looked to Orion with a somewhat dazed expression, and – according to the healers – he had only just given birth less than an hour earlier, as such he was not really in a position to hold long or serious discussions. Harry realised that he would be better discussing such things once his husband healed, but he could feel himself screaming inside to tell Severus the truth. He loved Severus, and it was time Severus knew that.

“Trust has been lost, Harry,” said Severus. “It has been broken both ways.”

There was no denying the truth to those words, which caused his stomach to lurch slightly and his heart to skip a beat. He held Orion closer, as he turned his head slightly to look at Severus, and he realised – as he looked – Severus felt as guilty as _he_ felt. It was clear at the very moment when Harry looked into Severus’ eyes, although it was subtle and Harry was sure that he would have missed it at any other point in their relationship, but it was there and it showed a depth to his husband that he so often took for granted. He gave a sad sigh.

“How did you break my trust?” Harry asked.

“You do not feel _some_ resentment that I ignored you for all this time?”

“Well, yeah, I guess I feel some resentment,” admitted Harry. “Isn’t that normal, though? We could have resolved this so _easily_ , if you’d just read my letters or given me a chance to explain myself! Still, I know it was _my_ fault for giving you a reason to think the worst. You wouldn’t have reacted that way at all, if I’d just worked out my feelings any other way than by kissing someone else . . . I screwed up, but I want to make it right.”

“We could not go immediately from _this_ into a relationship, Harry,” said Severus. “It is vital that any relationship we have be built upon foundations of trust and mutual respect, as such I would suggest that we take the time to rebuild what we have lost. I would not be averse to pursuing a relationship, should we learn to get along constructively.”

“That – that’s good. Look . . . er . . . why don’t you move back in? You’re going to need help watching Orion the first few weeks anyway . . . I would rather be the one to help than _Malfoy_ , plus we can use the time to work on rebuilding things. If you want to, that is?”

“I will have an elf move my belongings for when I am discharged.”

Harry gave a bright smile. He turned his head to see that Severus lay with eyes closed, as if he sought for a sleep that was denied with present company. It was clear that Harry would need to let Severus rest soon, but he felt surprised that his husband gave in so easily to his suggestion, especially after two months apart. There was a part of him that feared Severus only agreed as he was too tired to realise what he agreed to do, so – as Harry stroked his son’s back and made soft noises to him – he decided to make sure Severus was certain.

“I was expecting more argument,” admitted Harry.

“I was also expecting you to be more disgusted with my feelings.”

“Why should I be? We established that I feel the same way.” Harry looked down at Orion and gave a sad smile. “We can’t keep _doing_ this, though! We can’t keep assuming how the other feels! I can’t assume you don’t want me, just as you can’t assume I’ll be repulsed by you. Why don’t we start totally afresh? No assumptions. It can be like we’re strangers meeting for the first time, although it’ll be hard when I’ve been in love with you since Christmas.”

Harry shook his head with a sad smile. The idea of being ‘just friends’ as they began to slowly date was difficult, because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to suppress his feelings, especially not when it took so long for him to realise the truth, but they needed to take things slowly. They needed to establish whether they _could_ work as a couple, _before_ they became serious. It was then that he saw Severus – with half-lidded eyes – gave him a strange look with a raised eyebrow, so that Harry wondered what he did to deserve such scrutiny.

“What?” Harry asked.

“You just said that you’re in _love_ with me,” said Severus.

It was a shock to realise – finally – that he said those words aloud, so that he almost wanted the ground to swallow him whole and take him away, because Severus’ reaction was _impossible_ to decipher and he looked so _sceptical_ about what he just heard. Harry didn’t mean to tell Severus accidentally, especially not so soon after the birth when they only just decided to try a romantic relationship, because things would be so easily confused and emotions were so high, and Severus deserved to _know_ he was loved, not to think that Harry spoke merely out of confusion or ‘sentimentality’.

“I – er – yeah . . . I did say that.”

“I gather by your embarrassment that you do not wish to discuss it further?”

“Not yet?” Harry blushed a deeper red. “I _do_ love you, but you were right that we take this really slow, especially now that Orion is involved. If we start talking about love and romance, we’ll start to confuse things, won’t we? We need to make sure we can work.”

“One would argue that we should have worked out those things _before_ Orion was born. I will say that I fully agree with you . . . a sentiment that I am loath to admit. It will also be that Orion’s existence shall change any pre-existing friendship we had considerably, as raising a child will bring with it a new set of challenges and conflicts, and so it may be that any preconceived notions we have about this being possible may prove false.”

“It’s one thing to go into this realistically, but another to shoot it down before we’ve even given it a chance!” Harry gave Severus a dark look. “Can you _not_ make it sound like we’re doomed to failure, before we’ve even _tried_ to make a success of it all? Anyway . . . how are you – er – feeling? I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the birth, Severus.”

Severus gave a small snort of derision, as he rolled his head lazily from side to side. The sweat on his forehead appeared to have lessened, but Harry wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe it away, so as to ease his husband’s discomfort in some way, but it was an intimacy he knew Severus would not approve whilst things were still tense between them. He could see that Severus was exhausted, almost on the verge of sleep, and so he gently slid off the bed and back into the visitors’ chair beside the beside-table. The curtain between the two beds rustled as he accidentally knocked it, and he wondered whether best to draw it.

“You ask how I _feel_?” Severus asked.

There was a moment of silence. Harry was _certain_ that his husband was about to snap at him or let loose a sarcastic insult, but he could see Severus bite his lip and roll his head to face the window in distraction. It was then Harry noticed a spot of dried blood just under Severus’ lip, as if he bit it earlier to the point of breaking skin, and there were lined scars across the faded Dark Mark that peeked just underneath the sleeve of his gown. Clearly, Severus was under much emotional pain from the past, as well as physical pain from the birth.

“I feel rather exhausted, Harry,” snapped Severus.

“I was teaching a class,” said Harry sadly. “The healers had to get word to Hermione at the Ministry, then she had to come up to the school, and I had to leave to get to St Mungo’s -! I thought I might make it on time, because they said labour can take hours, but – even though I raced straight here – I missed it . . . please, don’t hold it against me? I know this is the _worst_ start to things, but I _swear_ I’ll always be here for you both.”

Severus turned his head on the pillow to give Harry a hard glare, before he reached out to stroke Orion’s hair. He used his left hand, which meant that the reach was awkward and appeared uncomfortable, and his sleeve slid down to reveal that his arm – surprisingly thin and pale – indeed held many scars across the mark, as if he tried in his darker hours to remove it by force. It seemed that they would have a _lot_ more to work through and process than what Harry assumed, as Severus was more disturbed by his past than he assumed.

It was then that Severus let his hand fall back down, whilst their son’s face became red and his cheeks puffed out, and suddenly there was a smell unlike anything Harry had ever endured, something that put Teddy’s messes to absolute shame. Harry felt his eyes water, whilst his hand that supported his son felt awfully warm, and he wondered how Severus _knew_ what his son was doing _before_ the smell hit their senses. He felt Orion begin to stir and whine, so that soon the tears would come and the screaming would start, and he gave a heavy sigh as he stood up carefully to look around for a changing mat.

“If you wish to make amends,” said Severus, “you can start by changing Orion.”

“Seriously? _Don’t look at me like that_! I’ll do it, it’s just –”

Harry pulled a face as the smell grew stronger. He found a changing mat tucked in the bedside-table, where there was a small bag filled with baby items, and he quickly got to work changing their son. It was a bit worrying to see that his son’s mess was rather green, even more so to see what looked like a horn from his stomach, but Severus merely scoffed at him and explained in tired tones that such a colour was normal and the ‘horn’ was the remainder of the umbilical cord. Harry redressed their son and tidied up, as they sat back on the chair.

“It was not an easy birth, Harry,” whispered Severus. “I wish to sleep.”

“I can watch him. Don’t worry, I won’t let him wake you.”

“I will wake anyway, should he cry . . .”

Severus appeared serious, but the way his eyes closed said otherwise. It was possible that the cries of their son would wake him, but he appeared so deeply exhausted that it was impossible to imagine him awakening for anything short of a miracle, and already he was breathing much deeper and slower, so that he was clearly deeply asleep. He looked so peaceful, almost as if he hadn’t suffered the birth at all, and he must have trusted Harry to _some_ extent in order to let his guard down like that . . . unless he was so tired that he was physically unable to prevent himself from slipping into a slumber. Harry promised himself to find a healer whilst Severus slept, to check his husband’s condition.

He gave a small sigh, as he watched Severus sleep. Orion stirred slightly, just enough to let out a whimper, and – true to his word – Severus stirred in turn, enough that Harry felt a momentary panic and a spark of guilt. It was up to him to make sure that his husband could finally _rest_ , especially when such rest was well-deserved, and so he began to hum a tune to Orion and bounced him slightly in his arms, as he patted his back and hoped that he would fall asleep soon, too. A healer quickly looked in to check on them, and then ducked back out.

It felt strange to finally hold his son. He felt himself let out a tear again, as he smiled warmly and felt an overwhelming feeling of love, and he couldn’t wait until the moment where he could introduce Orion to Teddy and his family. It was possible Severus wouldn’t be up to visitors for a while, but – with his permission – he could take Orion to his friends for a quick visit, even if only so far as the visitors’ room. The stranger part was that Severus agreed to try a romantic relationship, so soon they could even be a couple . . . a real couple. He looked down at his son with a surreal sense of relief, unable to believe this was happening.

“I guess this is a new beginning,” said Harry quietly.

Orion gave a gurgle of agreement.

 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

# Chapter Sixteen

“He’s so beautiful . . .”

Harry smiled from the doorway. It was simply impossible to look away from Orion, as he lay quietly in his Moses basket just underneath the window, and – the more he looked – the more overwhelmed with love he felt. The young boy had grown a lot in just the six weeks since his birth, whilst the jumper knitted by Molly suited him perfectly, and he rarely seemed to cry or whine, almost as if he strove to be as perfect as he looked. Teddy slept in his bed on the other side of the room, where it had taken a great amount of effort to get him to sleep.

The silence hit Harry hard, almost like he had been fighting back his exhaustion during the battle with the ‘terrible twos’ that Teddy exhibited, and now he wanted nothing more than to collapse somewhere and preferably _sleep_. It didn’t help that Severus insisted Teddy was Harry’s responsibility alone, only helping and tending to their son, but – considering his husband was only _just_ fully recovered from the birth – he tried not to make too big a deal out of it. Severus did deserve rest, as much as was possible with a newborn. It was just good to _finally_ have Severus home again, where they could work out an awkward rhythm and co-parent together as best as they could. Fatherhood suited Severus surprisingly well.

“He looks mischievous,” said Severus with an edge.

Harry rolled his eyes with a smile, as he turned to look at Severus. The older man leaned lazily against the doorframe, whilst his hair fell about his face in dark curtains, and the grey night-shirt he wore only served to make Harry blush a little. He remembered seeing Severus dressed in a similar way during his fourth year, but that was a moment when he was desperately trying to hide and avoid being caught out after curfew, and – well – their relationship then wasn’t even _remotely_ amicable, let alone romantic. Now he was looking at his _husband_ . . . a husband dressed only in a shirt, alone together at night . . .

“He’s six weeks old,” muttered Harry. “He’s too young to be ‘mischievous’.”

“Is he now?” Severus gave a scoff, before he shooed Harry to one side brusquely and gently pushed the door closed. “He is the son of a rebellious Gryffindor, one that seeks to have a Weasley as his godfather, and frankly I worry about him. I would suggest that you keep that map and cloak of yours locked up tight, as I _refuse_ to look away as I once was forced to do for you. If I receive word of rule-breaking, I will be sending him a howler.”

“You’re _seriously_ planning out punishments for when he starts school? I guess we know now which one of us is going to be the strict parent. Don’t worry; I keep the Marauder’s Map locked away in a drawer in my office, whilst the cloak is stashed in my bedroom. Look, I know you’re worried about him, but _you’re_ his dad too . . . he could be like you.”

“I seriously doubt that very much, Harry. I believe the influence of his namesakes alone shall influence him for the worse. I shall do all I can to help him grow to be a mature and responsible member of society, but there is only so much I can do.”

“If he _does_ grow up to be a trouble-maker, it’ll be a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“ _When_ he grows to be a trouble-maker, _you’ll_ be teaching him.”

Severus cast Harry a look that was hard to decipher. He wasn’t sure whether his husband was teasing, as he was prone to a very dry and sometimes dark sense of humour, and he looked at Severus carefully in an attempt to understand him. It was possible that he was only jesting, but equally as possible that he sincerely believed his words and felt this ‘warning’ necessary, so that they could raise Orion accordingly to prevent it, but – without knowing for certain – Harry was reluctant to confront him. There was no point in creating arguments when there wasn’t any need for them, especially when he promised to keep his anger in check.

He watched as Severus walked towards the living room, with only a slight limp in his step, and Harry followed quickly behind. The nightshirt had the disadvantage of leaving Severus somewhat shapeless, but there was an added sense of intimacy in the sight of his bared legs and informal clothing. They moved inside the lounge, although Severus made sure the door was left open and the baby-monitor was turned on, which was something Harry still found strange, as he never imagined Severus being one to rely upon or use muggle technology.

It was then that Severus moved to a high shelf to pour himself a glass of firewhiskey, before he moved to take a seat upon the sofa and sipped quietly. Harry gave a nervous smile and sat on the opposite end of the sofa, with a space immediately between them, as he angled his body to face his husband and look directly at him. They sat together in silence for a while, although every single breath or gurgle over the monitor made Harry jump and quickly turn his head, even as Severus rolled his eyes and mocked him for being so over-protective, but – otherwise – the silence was a comfortable one. They seemed to have become good friends.

“You know,” said Harry, “they say the eyes are the windows to the soul. He has your eyes.”

Severus gave him a stern look from over the rim of his glass, before he rolled his eyes once more and took a deep swallow of the liquid within. It was clear that he didn’t approve of the ‘sentimental’ statement, especially when it broke the quiet that was so rare to find lately, as there seemed to be a never-ending stream of guests between their son’s rare few cries, which wasn’t too mention Teddy’s recent tantrums. Severus chose that moment to down his drink, before he slammed the glass upon the side-table and looked to Harry with a smirk.

“I would be willing to bet ten galleons on the fact he shall be just like you.”

“I’m not betting on our son,” replied Harry. “Seriously, didn’t we _both_ learn about making assumptions? I’m not having you act around our son like you did us as a teacher, because that isn’t fair in the least. He has infinite potential, Severus! He could be anything!”

“I see, you’re scared of losing the bet,” said Severus with a devilish look.

“You really are incorrigible, you know that?”

There was a small snort from Severus, as he turned to look at Harry. It still felt impossibly strange to be just a few feet from his husband, both dressed in their nightclothes and bickering over their son, and he wondered what Severus thought of their situation. They were friendly and progressing forward, but they had yet to talk about their relationship in any depth, whilst there was very little – if any – physical affection between the two of them. If Severus wanted to go slow, he was certainly accomplishing it.

“I will stop, if it makes you feel better,” said Severus.

“ _Thank you_ ,” answered Harry. “I know you don’t mean anything by it, but children – well – they don’t get sarcasm . . . hell, even I don’t get your sarcasm sometimes. I don’t want Orion to ever believe you think him a nuisance! I _know_ you love him dearly.”

“Indeed. I must admit that surprised me. I never expected to care for Orion; he was forced upon me and whilst inside me I saw him as nothing but a parasite, but that all changed the moment he was born. I do not know whether it was the rush of hormones, as my biology sought to betray me, or perhaps I have longed for a child and simply repressed the notion due to a disbelief that I could have one . . . nonetheless, he is my son. I adore him.”

“I’ve seen you watching him during the night,” whispered Harry. “I know every sound he makes has me on edge, as I’m always so scared something will go wrong, but I think you feel the same way. It’s kind of sweet, you know? I never really thought of you as the sort to watch over a child like that, but even when you hold him . . . your face just lights up.”

“I would ask whether you often watch me, but I fear I should not wish to know the answer to such a question. It will be suffice to say that I know how you feel. I have seen that same love upon your face, just as I feel that same fear as you do. How you bear it, I do not know.”

“What – what is it that you’re scared of . . . specifically?”

Severus reached out his weak hand to turn the glass beside him, where he gave a long sigh that made it clear he was either uncomfortable or unsure how to proceed. There was very little light inside their living room, especially with the curtains closed and darkness upon them, but the few candles scattered gave him a rather eerie and yet beautiful glow. Harry found himself instinctively inching closer, as he felt a great sense of nervousness, almost like he felt before on his dates with Cho or when he was forced to face the dragon . . .

It was then Severus turned his gaze to face Harry, who – realising he was moving ever closer – blushed wildly and sat perfectly still, although he was now only a mere foot away from Severus and close enough that he could reach him easily. There was a glint in Severus’ eyes of amusement, as if he somehow knew what Harry felt, and so Harry looked away out of fear that maybe Severus would read his mind. Eventually Severus’ expression changed, as if he remembered the question that was asked. He looked pained. Harry bit his lip and looked sheepishly down at his hands, as he realised that Severus might not want to talk about it.

“Sorry, I guess that was a personal question,” said Harry.

“It is fine. I would not answer, if I held any offence,” replied Severus quietly. “If you must know, I have spent a good portion of my life with very little to call my own, except perhaps a handful of spells and a variety of talents. Orion is the first pure thing in my life to which I can call my own, as such I fear losing him or corrupting him, as that seems to be a recurring pattern with those that I love. You will forgive me my distance from him, as such.”

“There’s nothing to forgive . . . I – I can kind of relate. I’ve lost people, too, Severus. I’ve lost my parents, my godfather, and my friends . . . I look at Orion and I’m _terrified_ that I might lose him, or – worse – he might lose _us_. Still, if we distance ourselves from him -? I don’t know. It kind of feels like giving up. It’s like we don’t care enough to try, when I _know_ it’s actually because we care too much. I want him to know how loved he is, because otherwise we _will_ lose him, because he’ll look for love elsewhere. It’d be . . .”

“Self-fulfilling, as you would say?”

Harry gave a nervous smile. He looked to Severus and saw an iota of humour, but a form of humour that hid the dark truth and was used to mask the pain. They sat silently together for a long moment, until Teddy let out a sound that made it seem as if he were about to awake, but – as Harry poised himself to get up – the toddler settled quietly. He fell back against the sofa with a sigh of relief, as the cool material rested against the skin of his neck, and he let his eyes close softly for a brief moment. It was then that he realised his husband was likely waiting for an answer, so he turned to look at him with a weak smile.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “It would.”

“I imagine that we shall both learn what it means to be a parent . . . in time. If you feel I am too distant, you merely need say. It is something I shall endeavour to work upon. You saw glimpses of my childhood, did you not? You saw the way I cowered as my parents fought; you saw my isolation and alienation . . . I would not wish that upon my child. That being said, whilst I have learned what makes a _bad_ father, I have never known makes a _good_ father.”

“I – I know what you mean. My aunt and uncle were pretty dire,” whispered Harry. “I learned that _not_ putting Orion under the stairs, feeding him _more_ than scraps, and maybe not insulting him would _probably_ be the best approach to parenting. If it weren’t for Sirius, Hagrid and Dumbledore -? I was lucky. It wasn’t just them; I learned about unconditional and selfless love from Mr and Mrs Weasley, just as I learned about patience and mentoring from Remus, and I even learned from you about loyalty and dedication. I might not have had love at home, but I still had many adults around me that showed me what love should be.

“I wondered – when you were in hospital – whether I would have been like you, if I hadn’t the opportunity to have those people in my life. I mean . . . did you turn to the Dark Arts because you wanted to or because you felt that it was the only place you could find acceptance? My dad was awful to you for no reason, although Sirius tried to justify it, but I _know_ how lonely and humiliating it is to be bullied and isolated like that! I felt – _still_ feel – so awful that you had to go through that. I – I don’t want our son to _ever_ feel that way!”

Harry gave a sigh as he looked to the baby monitor. He wondered whether he _could_ be a good parent for Orion, but he also knew that he had much more opportunities than Severus ever did, so – whatever fear he felt – Severus likely felt that fear doubled. It would be impossible for Severus to emulate any kind of role model, because what role models did he have growing up? They would need to rely on each other and support each other. Severus looked so uncertain and so nervous, but Harry _knew_ he would be an amazing father, just so long as he allowed himself to realise it was okay to be loved . . . that he deserved to be loved.

“It is too late to discuss my past now,” said Severus.

“Oh, yeah, I guess,” muttered Harry in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I should have figured you wouldn’t want to talk about those kinds of things, but you’ve done more than enough to redeem yourself . . . well . . . the big stuff. You can make up how you treated me by treating Orion properly.” Harry gave a wink to show he was teasing. “We’ll be okay, I promise.”

“That is not what I meant.” Severus gestured to the clock on the mantelpiece. “It is _literally_ too late. I do not find exhaustion conducive to a serious conversation, as such we would do best to discuss this over breakfast. I will confide – _to an extent_ – tomorrow morning.”

“You – you would actually trust me enough to talk about it?”

“It is as I say . . . to an extent.”

Harry smiled and moved an inch closer to Severus. The older man did look tired, which was completely true, but he still looked rather handsome despite the toll of the long day and longer night. He couldn’t help but admire Severus; it wasn’t just all the sacrifices he made during the war, it was the sacrifice he made in carrying their son, and every time he looked to his husband he saw the person that gave his son _life_ , which was a debt he would never be able to repay. It meant the world to him that Severus could trust him even the slightest.

“That’s a start,” said Harry cheerfully.

“I was surprised, in your fifth year, to find that my memories were not common knowledge by the following day,” replied Severus coolly. “I did not expect to be able to trust you, but I am reluctant to admit that I could . . . even if I could not trust you enough to _avoid_ those memories in the first place. We have both changed dramatically. It is possible that you have changed enough that I may trust you fully, but let us take small steps.”

“That’s fair . . . I know it might not mean much, but I _swear_ that I’ve grown, too. I was wrong to look into your memories back then, but I would _never_ do it now! Er, it’s probably a good thing we’ve both grown, right? I mean it’ll be good for us to trust each other, if we’re going to co-parent Orion, plus . . . if we’re a couple . . .”

“Albus once said: the longer the journey, the more satisfying the destination.”

“I think he was right. I feel kind of happy with you and our son.”

Severus quirked an eyebrow upwards, which caused Harry to blush and look down at his hands. He found it hard to concentrate when it seemed that Severus was analysing him, as if looking for whether there was honesty or dishonesty in his words, and he felt rather vulnerable in that moment, as if he were on display. There was no denying that he felt happy with his family, even if he never quite expected to, and – through all their struggles – it felt _good_ to finally sit beside Severus as an equal and enjoy a moment of intimacy.

There was a sigh from his husband, who flicked a hand to extinguish a majority of the lights, and Harry found himself blinking rapidly to try and adjust his eyes to the darkness. Severus stretched his legs, where Harry caught the sight of pale skin below the knee, which made him look away out of fear Severus might think him staring, and he took the now dark room as a sign that the conversation was reaching its natural end. It was true that there would be plenty of time to talk in the morning, but a part of Harry felt more awake than before. He watched silently as Severus reached out to take the monitor, before he looked at Harry and said:

“I would happier were Ronald Weasley not his godfather.”

Harry bit his lip to refrain from rolling his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause an argument or seem like he was invalidating Severus’ feelings in some way, but they already discussed the issue at great length and Severus was the one that agreed without any pressure whatsoever. It wasn’t as if Harry hadn’t suggested other people either, such as Minerva or Molly, so it felt as if Severus were being contrary for the sake of things. There was likely more to it than that, as even Severus wasn’t that petty, but it seemed that way.

“You said you were _fine_ with Hermione and Ron as godparents,” said Harry.

“I believe that I said that – out of all possible choices – they were the least of all evils,” muttered Severus. “That being said, I am sure they would be adequate godparents, but _if_ we choose to have another child then _I’ll_ decide upon the godparents.”

“Fine, it’s a deal. That reminds me, actually, Hermione suggested getting a family portrait done of us all. _I know, I know, don’t look at me like that!_ You’re going to say that we have loads of photographs of us and Orion and Teddy, but we haven’t got any of us _all_ _together_ , especially not a professionally taken one. We could frame it and put it in the hall.”

“If I must, I suppose I can relent to such a request . . .”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” said Harry.

Severus gave a smirk that made Harry feel somewhat conflicted. There was a part of him that wanted to smile in turn at his husband’s clear teasing, but he also felt so frustrated by the fact he could start an argument over nothing. He was tired himself, although perhaps not as much as Severus, and the sky was pitch-black outside, so that – when the final candle went out – they would be cast into a darkness impossible to see through. Harry almost wanted the conversation to end, as a chilly draught swept through the living room.

“Indeed,” said Severus. “Once I think of a condition, I shall apply it.”

“So you’re going to think of a ‘but’ just for the sake of it? You’re being contrary for the sake of being contrary! You -!” Harry shook his head. “You know what? I’m not even going to argue. I knew you were like this when I married you.”

“You certainly did.” Severus placed a hand between them on the cushion, as he cricked his neck with an almost painful popping sound. “Now, I do believe it is time to retire for the evening. The healer has stated that I am fully healed, as such you have no excuse to tend to every nighttime feeding or changing. It is time that I did my share. I shall take the monitor and watch over the children for the evening.”

“It’s a shame we don’t share a room. I still think taking it in turns throughout the night would be a lot fairer, but I guess that’s difficult with one monitor and two rooms. Hey, you – er – said ‘if’ when talking about future children? I was just wondering . . . do you think – maybe – it could be a possibility? Just I thought that maybe we could –”

“We can discuss such things in the morning. I wish to sleep.”

“Ah, yeah, that seems fair. Sorry . . .”

Harry blushed and looked away again. It was probably far too soon to even discuss such a thing, although it was something that he couldn’t help but think about nonetheless, and he wondered whether they would work as a couple. If they could make their relationship work, they could have more children in the future. Still, they needed to learn to be good parents for Orion first, as it’d be irresponsible to have more children when they weren’t quite ready for them, but it was nice to dream about. He moved his hand to prepare to stand up.

It was then that he felt his hand brush against Severus, so that he jumped a little in his seat and looked nervously to his husband. The skin the side of his palm felt cool and smooth against his fingertips, whilst his fingers felt somewhat calloused and rough, and Harry flexed his digits just enough that they came to rest slightly on the outside of his husband’s hand. There was little he could do to stop his heart from racing, as he endured an absolute panic at the idea Severus might be offended by such a liberty, and he wondered whether the older man could sense his fear. Still, it was _nice_ to be close to Severus, to finally touch him.

“Anyone would think that intentional,” said Severus.

Harry visibly flinched, as he feared the worst. He made to move away, but Severus merely grabbed a hold of his hand and simply _held_ it for a few seconds, before he gave an affectionate squeeze and stood up slowly. It was enough to make Harry feel light-headed, as he watched the hand slowly pull away with a lingering touch, and he couldn’t help but beam up at Severus, as his husband walked towards the door. He wondered whether this was a good sign. Severus paused at the door, then turned with his typical smirk and said simply:

“Goodnight, Harry.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

# Chapter Seventeen

“Severus? Are you decent?”

There was a shuffling sound behind the door. It was difficult to see so late at night, as already the candles were out and the curtains were drawn, but he could see a strong glow from beneath Severus’ door and knew his husband to be awake. He leaned against the wall, whilst he waited for some form of response. The sound of material rustling echoed out into the hallway, where he thought he heard Severus give a slight groan of movement, and eventually there followed an exasperated sigh, which made Harry smile just slightly.

‘ _You may enter_.’

Harry turned and opened the door, where he entered slowly inside. The room was surprisingly spotless, as opposed to his that looked worse than it did during his school years, and he wondered – when it came time to sharing a room – whether it would be a point of contention between the two of them. There were several framed photographs on Severus’ bedside, which included their wedding photo and a family photo, but it did little other than to make Harry blush, as he was _sure_ there was a sock hanging off the photo in his room, where he threw it lazily whilst changing and forgot to remove it. He’d need to learn to be tidier, as six months into their relationship was frankly long enough to have learned.

Severus was sat in bed against a large pillow, with the other side – Harry’s right – quite empty and with the duvet thrown back, almost as it they were purposely thrown back as an invitation of sorts. He closed the door behind him, as he walked carefully over to the bed. It seemed that Severus was marking a selection of papers, which was a little infuriating when his husband didn’t _actually_ work at the school any longer, and Harry felt certain he was marking homework from _Harry’s_ classes. He sat down beside Severus with a frown.

The older man was dressed in his nightshirt, but the pile of parchment on his lap sat with significantly lower grades than Harry would have given, but it _was_ nice to have some help in marking and the marks were fair just . . . strict. It meant that he would have the next day free to pick up Teddy and Orion, so they could spend it together as a family, without the pressure that there was work to be done. He felt grateful Severus convinced him to change career paths, because as an Auror he would rarely have seen his family. Harry pulled the duvet over his legs, where he sat a few inches from Severus and treasured the small intimacy.

“You are too lenient in your marking,” snapped Severus.

“I thought you told McGonagall you would go back to work _if and when_ the new potions master leaves?” Harry moved closer to Severus. “You’re not actually teaching anymore and your business seems to be taking off . . . do you _really_ need to do my work for me?”

“I believe one of us must. You appear to be a somewhat competent teacher, but that does not excuse giving a paper like _this_ –” Severus waved a previously ‘O’-graded paper and showed that it was now an ‘A’ “– anything close to an ‘outstanding’. This is a fifth year student; as such, you need to mark to an O.W.L. standard. I would say your grading is a ‘P’ at least.”

Harry felt his cheeks flush red, as he reached out and snatched away the papers from Severus. He dropped them onto the bedside table next to him, whilst Severus smirked at his reaction and chose to lie down, and Harry – not wishing to be the only one sitting – lay down beside him, with less than a foot between them. It felt strange to be under the covers with Severus, as in the past six months they were yet to do anything more than kiss, whilst even that left Harry feeling incredibly awkward the next day. He wasn’t sure how to process this.

“Luckily the headmistress doesn’t mind my marking,” said Harry.

“Of course not,” replied Severus. “She was always biased towards you. I docked you points for attempting to curse a student, so she added _fifty_ points for your activities in the Ministry. I only refrained from argument as I – too – disliked Umbridge greatly.”

“Look, do you know what time it is? Let’s not argue, okay? It’s been stressful enough at school with the Halloween feast coming up . . . I’m _certain_ that one of the students is planning some sort of prank, but I can’t _prove_ it! It’s not what’s driving me mad, though, it’s the fact that I now know how you felt knowing I was misbehaving and unable to stop it, because it’s like I’ve _become_ you. It’s terrifying. If I start smirking instead of smiling -!”

“You act as if being me would be a bad thing. I do believe you held no complaints about my person when you – as _you_ would say – ‘snogged’ me just the other week. Nonetheless, you should _mark_ your work promptly, otherwise I shall mark it for you. I have a surplus of time, whereas you seem to wish to delay marking . . . this way it suits us both.”

“I’ll remember that when you start teaching again. The second you leave a pile of marking for longer than half-a-day, I’ll do it for you. Your marking is way too strict, I’m sure a few students would prefer a good ‘E’ to a ‘P’ any day.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” said Severus.

Harry laughed despite himself, especially as the look of horror on Severus’ face was so sincere, as if the idea of marking kindly was the most offensive thing that he could possibly conceive. It was true that his husband liked to ‘prepare’ students for the ‘real world’, as well as to make sure they ‘earned’ their grades, and it still surprised Harry that this same man could be the one to smile sweetly at their son and sing to him very softly under his breath, as if scared someone may hear him. He hid a sensitive side very, _very_ well.

“Try me,” laughed Harry.

The eye-roll from Severus only made Harry laugh all the more, as he scooted closer to his husband and felt their bodies now pressed against one another at the sides, and he enjoyed how warm Severus felt beneath the duvet and covers. He could feel the raised scars beneath the material of the nightshirt, as well as heard the hiss of breath from Severus, who still disliked being touched at all, as if he were afraid of Harry’s reaction, and so he simply kept still and tried to refrain from resting his head against Severus’ shoulder. The candlelight made the room feel all the more intimate and romantic, which cause him to blush.

“How are Orion and Teddy?” Severus asked.

“Huh? Oh, er, they’re good,” said Harry. “Didn’t I tell you? Hermione called whilst I was cleaning up the nursery; she said that they’re happy to baby-sit, but Orion is struggling to settle and keeps reaching for your photograph. Apparently it sounds like he’s trying to say ‘da’.” Harry smiled and rolled onto his side to face Severus. “I think he misses you. I said we’d collect them first thing tomorrow, maybe we could take them to the park?”

“I would rather not. There always seems to be other children about, and I cannot abide the noise and commotion. If I wanted to have my free days filled with screaming and running, I would have remained at that school. I thought perhaps we could do a quieter activity instead, such as a walk or a picnic, but _anything_ other than the infernal park!”

“It’s a bit cold for a picnic, isn’t it? A walk would be nice, though. I guess we could do the zoo or aquarium, too . . . educational, but fun? Orion is a bit young for it, but Teddy would love it! We might as well enjoy it now. It’ll be harder to manage with more children.”

“More children?” Severus asked. “You wish for more children?”

Harry blushed at the question. It wasn’t something he meant to let slip, although it was hardly a secret either, and he couldn’t help but to look down and try to avoid eye contact. He pulled the duvet up to his chin and held it there for a long moment, whilst his eyes looked down at the collar of his husband’s shirt. It gave him something new to focus upon, although the parallel scars were just visible over the top of the collar on the pale skin, and he wondered how deep Severus’ self-consciousness ran. A part of him wanted to reach out and touch the scars, but he held tighter onto the cool covers instead.

He wasn’t sure how to answer, because he couldn’t lie and to tell the truth felt somewhat intimidating. It was more than possible that Severus didn’t want any other children, which meant that it could potentially end their relationship before it truly began, but he couldn’t lie about something that meant so much to him. There was never a version of the future where he imagined seeing Orion off alone at Platform 9 ¾, as he always envisioned his son having siblings, because he _knew_ how lonely being an only child could be.

They lay quiet for a long moment, until Severus extinguished most of the candles from under the cover, and – without a wand – it was an impressive feat of magic. The darkness left them mostly in shadow, so no longer could Harry see the scars and the expression that his husband wore, and he wondered whether Severus chose to do that on purpose, so as to hide himself from Harry’s eyes. It was then that he felt Severus roll onto his side, where suddenly the darkness increased and became almost physical. Harry realised that Severus’ face was only inches from his, which made him swallow hard and feel his heart race, and he soon felt his mouth run dry. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, but he was.

“We haven’t talked about that yet, have we?”

“No,” said Severus. “We have not. I suppose that we ought discuss it soon.”

“Well, I’d understand if you didn’t want any more,” admitted Harry. “I – I would like at least another one, though . . . I always kind of pictured a big family, although never as big as Ron’s. I thought about naming our next son or daughter ‘Albus Severus’ or ‘Lily Luna’, just as I thought about how I probably ought to be the one to carry them, as it was beyond unfair to let you carry Orion last time. I think about it a lot . . . how they might look . . .”

Harry smiled to himself and made to look down again, but Severus’ stronger hand came up to hold his chin and forced him to keep eye contact. It was a habit that Harry had broken since his fifth year, but his husband didn’t seek to penetrate his mind or see his true motives, and instead it felt as if Severus simply didn’t want Harry to hide away from his feelings. There was a time where Severus’ reaction would have been mockery or a demand for an answer, but now his touch felt much more like a request. It was also quite comforting.

“I quite prefer the name Silvanus,” said Severus.

“So . . . you want another child, too? I – er – thought you’d be against it.”

“I find that my love for Orion is enough that I would not object to another child. I believe it would be nice to experience that affection for another, as well as that I am capable of loving more than one child, but he is challenging enough that I think we must space them apart.”

“I didn’t mean to have one right now,” said Harry with a smile. “It’s just a relief to know you want one! You’re – you’re right, though. It’s pretty tough with Teddy and Orion both so close in age, so I couldn’t imagine having another one so soon . . . three children all under four? I think we’d end up in St Mungo’s from stress. I’m happy with just the four of us, at least for now anyway, we have plenty of time to have more children later, right?”

“Indeed, but there is _one_ obstacle.” Severus gave Harry a hard look. “I am not prepared to make such a potion _every_ time that we wish to conceive, as well as the fact that we are supposed to be an official – _and married_ – couple. It is not possible to have a natural conception without a natural consummation. That is all I shall say.”

The silence that fell was heavy and telling.

Harry swallowed hard and felt his heart race all the quicker, as he felt Severus’ thumb rub slightly against his chin and soon his lips. They were a lot closer recently, not to mention they were finally learning to trust one another and show affection, but things still weren’t perfect between them . . . then again, was there such a thing as perfect? Harry learned that reality wasn’t always close to the dream, but sometimes it could prove to be even better. He did love Severus and it was something he wanted to happen, but did Severus _really_ want it, too?

“You – er – want to . . .”

He let out a shuddered breath. Severus’ fingertips – calloused and rough – moved to his neck, where they traced patterns and reassured him, and it was then that he felt Severus’ leg press against his. It should have been obvious that Severus would want a physical relationship eventually, as he was a grown man and held urges just like anyone else, but he somehow built up the image of his husband as someone chaste or virginal, no matter how unrealistic an image it may have been. Ron used to tease how no one would want someone like Severus, but that wasn’t true. _Harry_ wanted him . . . no doubt other men or women wanted him, too.

“I thought you wanted more intimacy?” Severus teased.

“I – I do! I just don’t want to push you into -! I mean, I thought we -!”

Severus moved his hand to rub upon Harry’s shoulder, where the touch remained chaste on the outside of his pyjama top, and there was a sigh from his lips that spoke more of regret than disappointment. Harry wanted Severus to pull him in for a hug, but the older man seemed to think some distance was more appropriate, and he didn’t feel comfortable taking that initiative and embracing Severus himself, so he instead bit his lip and tried to keep eye contact between them. Severus looked to him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Tell me,” asked Severus, “would this be your first time?”

It was a question that made Harry blush, as he felt his insides run cold out of sheer nervousness. They _were_ married, after all, so it wasn’t as if such a question was inappropriate, but in the darkness of the bedroom and with both under the covers . . . it was just a reminder of how far they come. There was something surreal about how they were seriously discussing being physically intimate, especially when there was once a time when they would have rather died than consider such a thing, and he wished he could go back in time and change so many of his past actions. He looked to Severus and shrugged slightly.

“Ginny and I once . . .” Harry gave a nervous smile. “It – er – was _way_ before our engagement. It was during the war and we weren’t sure whether we would survive, so it was kind of our final goodbye. There was only that one time, though, and never with a man.”

“I believe I am ready,” said Severus calmly. “We have been married for over a year, whilst our son is half-a-year already, and I will admit to feeling attraction towards you. That being said, Harry, there is no time limit upon our relationship. We can take all the time that you need to consummate our marriage. It is something that you also want, correct? I do not wish for you to feel pressured, as I would understand should you not want this.”

“N-no! It’s not that! I want this. I want you! I just never really thought _you_ would want it, you know? I guess I never really thought about things beyond kissing, because I never thought it could be a possibility. I’m ready – honestly – I just feel a bit stunned, because I wasn’t expecting it to happen . . . I – ah – don’t really know what to expect, either.”

“It is not something one can plan for entirely . . . it is best that such an act be natural, and nature depends upon instinct and not preplanning. If you wish to take the lead, you would be guaranteed of no discomfort or pain, but my taking the lead may reduce pressure and worry.”

“You – you said it’s better for these things to be natural? Can we just see what happens?”

“Of course,” said Severus. “Remember; just say ‘stop’ for me to stop.”

“The same goes for you, you know?”

Severus gave a small smirk. It was clear that he knew Harry was sincere in his words, but there was a small amount of disbelief that seeped through, as if he found it inconceivable that someone would put his well-being before their pleasure. In a matter of seconds, he felt his husband take the initiative and pull him into a kiss. The kiss was somewhat clumsy, enough that it made Harry believe that Severus hadn’t _too_ much experience at this, but good enough that he showed a great amount of potential. He liked the way Severus took charge . . .

It was nothing like his kisses with Ginny or Cho, as the lips against his were rough and not smooth, and he could feel lean muscle against his hands and not soft flesh. There was a part of him that wondered how many times Severus was intimate with others, although the past was the past and he knew it shouldn’t matter, but there was a strong ache of jealousy as he thought about Severus with someone else. He soon found Severus’ fingers undoing the buttons to his pyjama top, before it was pulled off entirely, and left the cool sheets touching his bare skin, before Severus began to pull down the bottoms. There was nothing to see in the darkness and under the covers, but he felt self-conscious nonetheless.

“Remember we can stop at any time,” whispered Severus.

“Yeah, but I – I don’t want to stop,” said Harry. “I do want to take _this_ off, though.”

Harry reached out to remove Severus’ nightshirt, but the older man grabbed his hands with astonishing speed and held them tight the moment they touched the collar. He caught a harsh intake of breath, as Severus rolled Harry over and pinned his hands to either side of his head, although with a very gentle hold that was easily broken if chose. It was clear that Severus didn’t wish to remove his shirt; there was a pained expression upon his face, where the light reflected from his pursed lips and almost made them seem white . . . he looked almost afraid.

“Not tonight,” said Severus. “Another night, I promise.”

It felt strange that it was Severus who felt self-conscious, as it was Harry that was the one who was scrawny and still short compared to his peers, but clearly Severus wanted to keep his scars and the mark on his arm from view. Harry wanted to touch them. He wanted to remind himself that the scars were a sign of bravery, whilst the mark was a sign of how much Severus had grown over time, but he didn’t want to push his husband into something that made him uncomfortable, especially not when the act of intercourse already took a considerable amount of trust. It was then he felt Severus place kisses downwards.

The sensations he felt were indescribable. There was a sense of great arousal and pleasure, quite different to his past experiences, and yet the slight clumsiness of Severus – the occasional scrape of teeth and the few choked sounds – only made it more amazing than it ought. A hand encompassed what the head could not, whilst the other hand prepared for a long time what needed to be prepared. Harry nearly found himself finished before they begun, until Severus pulled away and positioned himself accordingly.

There was a moment of sharp discomfort, which bordered on pain, but Severus paused and gave him time to adjust. It was a feeling he never imagined himself experiencing, but it was one that he was certain he wouldn’t mind experiencing again. The expressions that Severus bore were so intimate and expressive, so that everything his husband felt was almost as if Harry felt in turn, and – eventually – Severus angled enough to strike at something that had him making rather embarrassing noises. Harry clutched at Severus’ shoulders tightly. There was sweat upon them both, whilst Severus was surprisingly vocal for someone usually so stoical, and at one point Severus was forced to reapply the lubrication.

Suddenly, it was all over . . .

Harry let out a choked groan, as he felt the peak moment of pleasure. He felt himself clench and heard Severus swear, whilst his nightshirt clung to him like a second-skin with the sweat, and suddenly there was a burst of warmth that reminded him – despite the preparation – he couldn’t remember Severus applying any contraception. They both panted for breath. Severus eventually rolled onto his back and pulled Harry with him, so that the younger man rested his head upon his chest, where he heard the racing heart and caught the heady scent of sex.

“Are you hurt?” Severus asked.

Harry gave a tired sound of reassurance. He nuzzled against his husband, where he thought about how Severus buried his head into his neck during the act, about how he would lower it whenever he thought Harry was looking, so that the black curtains of hair would hide his face, and he wondered whether Severus would ever trust him enough to open up fully. Severus’ hand ran loose patterns over his back, whilst Harry’s hand played with the collar of his husband’s shirt. He felt Severus lower the shirt to cover his privates.

“It was sore when you moved me,” admitted Harry.

“I have a potion that you may use,” said Severus. “It is to be applied much like an internal ointment, but it will ease any aches that may occur. I am not averse to switching roles in future, but – for now – I must say that I am inclined to shower.”

It was then that Severus disentangled himself from Harry, as he swung his legs out over the side of the bed. Harry groaned and let his arm fall onto the warm spot once occupied by his husband, where he looked sleepily up to see that Severus slipped on a robe from nearby, and – as he watched Severus tie it around the middle – the older man caught his eye and threw his pyjama top at him. It hit Harry square on his face, which caused him to glare up at Severus and question him silently with his expression alone. He hoped that they would at least bask in the after-glow together, but instead Severus was leaving him alone to redress.

“Do you want me to go?” Harry asked.

“No, but it is a rather cold night, as such I would suggest you dress,” said Severus.

“That’s all well and good, but we just -!” Harry shook his head and nuzzled into the pillow. “I thought we could at least fall asleep together! I kind of guessed you weren’t the traditionally romantic sort, but this is a bit of a joke, Severus! You said we could have intimacy!”

“Sex and intimacy are not synonymous. I will return once cleansed.”

“You’re really lucky I love you. You know that, right?”

Severus gave a sound that was almost like a laugh, although it was clear that he sought to hide his humour at the situation. He rested his hand upon the door to the _en suite_ bathroom, before he turned to look at Harry with a gaze hard to decipher in the darkness, but it seemed that his eyes were half-lidded and there was a flush to his usually pale cheeks. It was so strange to see pleasure in his husband’s expression, enough so that he wondered whether he was the first person to ever see it. Did Severus ever linger with past lovers?

“Perhaps one day you could join me,” said Severus.

“Uh-huh,” muttered Harry. “I would rather _you_ join _me_ now.”

“The refractory period should be finished upon my return. I would not mind making love once more, should you be so inclined . . . we could achieve a truer intimacy once done. If you are willing to tidy after yourself, we could perhaps discuss sharing a room.”

Harry shot upright, but – no sooner than he did so – he fell backwards as a sharp pain shot through his derrière. He felt his hair stick to the pillow, whilst the sheets fell about his waist and revealed his bare chest, and he hated that Severus could see him in such a vulnerable state, especially when he was more bone than muscle. Still, Severus only quirked an eyebrow and looked him up and down, as if he were appreciating the sight before him, and Harry wrenched the covers up to his chin and tried to glare at his husband. It was hard to be _too_ angry when Severus was suggesting _finally_ sharing a room together.

“You know . . . from you, that’s actually sweet,” said Harry.

“From you, that is almost observant.”

“And then you ruin it . . .”

There was a quiet chuckle from Severus, one that caused Harry to smile despite himself, and Severus slowly entered the bathroom and flicked his hand to turn on a light. It blinded Harry for a long moment, as his eyes struggled to adjust the sudden intrusion of light in the darkness, but – once they focussed again – he saw that Severus adjusted the shower and turned it on, so that the sound of running water echoed about the bedroom. He returned to the doorway and paused before he closed the door after himself.

“Do stay awake, Harry. It will be worth it.”

Harry smiled as the door clicked shut. There was a part of him that wanted to follow Severus into the bathroom, but clearly his husband wasn’t yet ready to display his body. He instead gave a large sigh and snuggled into the covers, where he felt the aches in his muscles that reminded him of what just happened. He wanted nothing more than to stay awake for Severus, but he felt so sated and so content that it felt almost possible. He whispered quietly:

“I’ll do my best . . .”

 

 


	18. Epilogue

# Epilogue

“Severus, have you seen Orion?”

Harry leaned tiredly against the doorframe. There was a deep ache in his joints, especially around his ankles, and the skin around his stomach felt sore and tender. It wasn’t easy to carry a child and he was beyond grateful to have the paternity leave during the last trimester, although he couldn’t teach DADA in his state in any case. He rubbed at his stomach through his robes, as he looked into the laboratory at his husband. The fumes made him feel nauseous, even though Severus assured him earlier that they would be safe to inhale . . .

It was then he saw Severus look up from his cauldron, where his hair fell about his face in loose locks, and it looked somewhat greasy from the fumes and humidity within the room, although he still managed to look quite intimidating. There was a streak of grey towards the front of his hair, which his husband argued was from stress and not age, but – all in all – he still looked rather handsome, albeit unconventionally so, and he amazingly still fitted into the robes he did before his pregnancy with Orion. Severus’ black eyes looked to Harry, before he gave a long exhale of breath much like a sigh and cast a spell to put the potion into stasis.

“I believe,” said Severus, “he should be packing.”

Severus came around his desk and walked over to Harry. He at once put a somewhat clammy hand against Harry’s forehead, as he checked to make sure that Harry wasn’t running a fever, before he looked him over and placed a hand against his stomach. The baby kicked, almost as if he could sense his other father’s presence, and Severus gave a devilish smirk and pulled his hand away with that same smug look that still managed to annoy Harry, even after all those years of marriage. He looked over Harry’s shoulder briefly into the hall.

“Do you realise that _Lily_ has packed?”

“Huh?” Harry turned to see Lily’s trunk. “I keep telling her that she’s too young to go, but she keeps saying that she looks eleven, so no one will notice. Don’t worry, I’ll have another word with her later and unpack her trunk, in the meantime . . . Orion?”

“I am assuming you have checked his room, which is what brings you to me?”

“Well, if I knew where he was, I wouldn’t be bugging you.”

“I recall earlier hearing the front door open.”

Harry tilted his head back and gave a long sigh, before he stormed into the hall. It was difficult to move with the pregnancy, but he managed well despite the slight sweat upon his forehead and the ache to his body. The state of the hall only made him feel a pang of despair, because there was an array of muddy footprints and a stray broomstick that weren’t there earlier that morning, whilst Albus’ and Lily’s trunks were haphazardly placed, so that they were tripping hazards. There was also a stack of post that someone forgot to give him.

“Lily!” Severus called. “I demand you move this trunk!”

The volume that Severus bellowed reminded him of his schooldays, so much that it was almost eerie to hear the anger in his voice, but he felt somewhat grateful that at least _he_ was no longer the recipient of those chastisements. There was a shuffling sound from upstairs, before there came a set of running footsteps, followed by a stumble that forced Harry to let out a gasp of breath, but – before he could run to his child’s side – Severus shot out a hand to stop him and gave him a firm look. Harry knew he was in no condition to run, but -!

It was then that Albus came running down the stairs, even as Severus called out for him to slow down and walked over to the foot of the stairs. Severus’ robes billowed out behind him, whilst his limp was hidden completely through years of practise, and Albus came to a dead stop at the bottom and looked nervously between his fathers. If he were looking for Harry to intervene, he would be disappointed. Harry loathed anything that put his children in danger. Frankly, if Severus decided to ground the sixteen-year-old, he would have Harry’s full support . . . he felt a terrible cold pit in his chest, as relief coursed through him, and he felt a little light-headed at the idea of Albus putting himself in danger in that manner.

Albus wasn’t exactly a clumsy teenager, but he was prone to tripping over the hem of his robes and slipping on steps, which was enough that a ‘no running in the house’ rule was implemented very early on into his childhood. He leaned against the banister with an embarrassed expression, most likely at being caught breaking the rules by Severus, and even his most innocent expression wouldn’t help matters. Their second eldest was born with Harry’s green eyes, enough so that Severus actually shed a tear the day Albus was born. They thus held a very close father-son bond. Severus always held Albus to high standards.

“Do you think yourself above house rules?” Severus asked.

“Sorry, Dad,” said Albus. “Lily said to tell you that she’s not moving her trunk.”

“You may tell your sister that exceptions will not be made. Your father is in no state to be moving such a heavy trunk, whilst I will _not_ be made to do the chores of my children. I will also not tell her twice. This behaviour will be punished should it continue.”

“I know, honestly, but all she says – when I tell her – is that it isn’t fair.”

“It may have escaped her notice, but _life isn’t fair_.”

It was impossible to hold back a laugh. Harry winced when the baby kicked due to the movement, where he put one hand over the stretched skin and the other over his mouth to hide the bright smile. They made a promise to always support each other in front of the children, so they never appeared to undermine the other’s authority, and Severus – despite exhibiting an unconditional love and absolute support – was the far stricter of the pair, which made Harry feel guilty for laughing at that moment. He gave Severus an embarrassed look.

“Sorry,” said Harry with a smile.

“Did I say something amusing?” Severus asked.

“I just remember you last finishing that sentence with ‘your blessed father knew that, in fact he frequently saw to it’. It’s weird, you know? I can’t believe how quickly time flies. It feels like only yesterday we were arguing about the upcoming wedding, but now -?”

It was strange to see his children grow up so quickly, enough that he almost missed the early years, but the idea of growing old with Severus and one day seeing their grandchildren -? It gave him a sense of hope that he never thought possible, a sense of peace that made him feel complete. He didn’t know why he was smiling so much, but – since the pregnancy with Silvanus began – he found himself a lot more sentimental than usual. Harry raised the hand from his mouth to his scar, where he felt a sense of relief that there was still no pain after all this time, and suddenly he heard Severus sigh and saw him pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Albus Severus Potter,” said Severus, “fetch your sister and return to the hall.”

“I’m not grounded, am I?” Albus asked. “Just school starts tomorrow anyway, but – if I’m honest – I could probably do with the extra time inside. They say the N.E.W.T. exams are really rough, so I figured I could get in some extra homework before school starts.”

“I was going to ask for your help in the laboratory, but I believe I can make an exception. You are a star pupil according to your teachers, whilst I must say I appreciate this dedication to education that you exhibit, as such . . . very well, I will overlook the rule-breaking this time, _but_ – should your brother ask – tell him that you are grounded, not studying by choice. I cannot bear the accusations of expressing a double-standard to you both.”

“That’s fine, but you know Orion is out, right? He said not to tell you, but he’s gone to crash Teddy’s date with Victoire. I feel bad for them, because she’ll be at school tomorrow and it’s the last time Teddy will see her until the Hogsmeade weekend, but he thinks it’ll be funny and wants to play a prank on them. He still hasn’t packed, either.”

“You’re way too much of a Slytherin for your own good,” muttered Harry.

“I don’t know,” said Severus with a smirk. “It is an admirable trait.”

“Well, you two snakes can scheme together then . . .”

Severus gave an expression of amusement. It was enough to make him look rather handsome in that moment, as it was as close to a smile as Severus wore outside of their private time together, and no doubt he appreciated finally having someone that could _understand_ him and his way of thinking. Albus was once so afraid of becoming a Slytherin due to his brother’s teasing, but he soon became excited when he learned that his older father was a Slytherin himself. The two – despite Albus’ strong resemblance to Harry – held a strong bond.

“Go get Lily, Albus,” said Severus.

It was then that Albus turned and headed upstairs. Harry took a step forward and gave Severus a long sigh of exasperation, as – in his view – Severus’ behaviour bordered on favouritism, and he disliked his leniency with Albus and strictness with the others. There was something rather telling about how Severus wouldn’t look him in the eye, almost as if he were purposely avoiding his gaze, and he hoped that Severus would at least _learn_ by the time Silvanus was born, because – with such a dramatic age difference with the other children – he easily envisioned Silvanus becoming spoiled enough to put Draco to shame.

He didn’t have time to address his concerns, because already Lily appeared on the staircase and wore a strong pout upon her face. The young girl was positively beautiful, or at least in Harry’s opinion, and she could usually bring a smile to just about everyone, but there something so _frustrating_ and _heartbreaking_ in equal measure about her expression. Lily slouched a little at the bottom of the stairs, as her hands knotted in her blue dress. Severus refused to give into her, even as Harry felt an urge to let her win, before he said:

“Lily, you need to move your –”

‘ _Oh, hey! I was just – er – going for walk_!’

Harry jumped and spun around. It seemed that Orion was just sneaking inside, as he traipsed more mud inside and kicked the door shut lazily behind him. The teenager was flushed in the face, as if he had been running or flying, and his hair was so messy that it made Harry’s look almost neat by comparison. Severus marched over to their eldest child and stood tall before him, even though their son was very much the same height, but Orion flinched a little and hunched his shoulders nervously. Evidently, he knew he would be in trouble.

“A little birdie tells us that you haven’t packed,” snapped Severus.

“I’ve packed! I’ve packed loads! I just have my books, clothes and cauldron to go!” Orion ran a hand through his messy hair and smirked. “You’ll never guess what I just saw! Teddy! Our Teddy! Teddy Lupin! He was totally making out with Victoire! So I go over and –”

“Orion, you’re _seventeen_ ,” said Harry with a hint of exhaustion. “Do you think – maybe – it’s about time you grew out of these antics? You need to be setting a good example for Albus and Lily, not to mention little Silvanus when he makes an appearance. I won’t pretend that I was the best behaved student, but . . . this is your _last_ year of school.”

“It’s cool! If I fail all my exams, I can just go into Muggle Relations or something. I’ll be fine! I always land on my feet! Speaking of which -! I promise I’ll clean up the mud later, okay? I was playing Quidditch with some lads from the village, only there was this storm and we got lost out on the fields and – yeah – I don’t know . . . it’ll take, like, five minutes at most to clean up, so it’s all good! Also, you’re such a _snitch_ , Albus! You told them I didn’t pack?”

“I didn’t tell them anything,” said Albus calmly. “You can’t prove that I did.”

“Yeah . . . well . . . you’re only _here_ because someone forgot a condom!”

“What’s a condom?” Lily asked innocently.

Severus glared darkly at their son. Harry merely gave a long sigh, before he pulled Lily over to him and rested a hand on her hand, as he promised to explain to her later. There was a part of him that regretted ‘total honesty and trust’ sometimes, because it lead to conversations that were most uncomfortable, but – ultimately – it was better for Lily to be educated and know that she could turn to her parents for anything. There was a smile from Albus, who clearly sensed that trouble was on its way for his brother.

It was then that Severus pointed his finger only a half-inch from Orion’s nose, which caused Harry to cough loudly to remind him to stay calm. Severus pulled his hand away with a low hiss of breath. Orion rightfully looked a little embarrassed, but no more so than Harry. He could already feel his cheeks flushed red, as he remembered how Orion accidentally overheard _that_ conversation a few years back, and the memory was only mildly more embarrassing than the discussion at hand. It was true that Albus was unplanned, a direct result of forgetting to use contraception during their first time, but Orion seemed to think ‘unplanned’ synonymous with ‘mistake’. It was lucky that Albus was above petty taunts.

“You’re supposed to be the oldest,” said Albus.

“Indeed,” snapped Severus. “Lily, take your trunk back upstairs. Albus, go to your room and study. _Orion_ , you will clean up that mess at once, after which I want you to pack your trunk and then bring it downstairs with Albus’. We will talk about your behaviour later.”

“Aw, come on!” Orion chimed in. “Whatever he said I did, I didn’t do it!”

“Do _not_ make me repeat myself, Orion James Potter!”

The two youngest stood still, as they watched Orion struggle with the spells he needed to clean up, whilst he uttered some words under his breath that Harry felt certain he didn’t know at his son’s age. There was a smile of enjoyment on Albus’ face, whilst Lily appeared more curious and distracted from her chore of removing her trunk, but – as Severus turned to them with raised eyebrow – they quickly made their way about their tasks. Albus ran upstairs, earning a shout from Severus, whilst Lily grabbed her trunk with a few crocodile tears.

It was then that Severus nodded to Harry. The older man moved for the laboratory, seemingly confident that the children would behave without supervision, although Harry was far less certain about that. He followed Severus, although it was a struggle with the extra weight and the change to his centre of gravity. The day that their last child arrived would be such a relief; he looked so much to meeting them for the first time, but he also looked forward to being able to walk and run freely without aches and pains. They headed inside the laboratory, where Severus closed both sets of doors and headed over to his simmering potion. Harry slowly made his way to sit opposite, before he gave a sigh of relief at being off his feet.

The laboratory felt stiflingly hot, which was made worse by the pregnancy and the discomfort already felt by Harry. Severus, luckily, looked up and appeared to notice his sensitivity to the heat, before he cast a spell to create a breeze and provide some ventilation, and Harry – feeling the cool air like a needed release – tilted his head back and spent a moment simply appreciating the feeling, as he closed his eyes. Eventually he reopened them and looked across the wooden desk to Severus, whom he realised still hadn’t told their children about the important changes in the upcoming school year. He smiled weakly and shook his head.

“Do you plan on _telling_ them you’ll be teaching now?” Harry asked.

Severus smirked, as he threw some ingredients into the potion. The original plan was for him to cover Harry’s paternity leave, but then the current potions teacher left, which caused Minerva to ask Severus whether he still wished to return. It was true that teaching provided a steadier income, even if the extra money wasn’t strictly needed, and Severus loved his sons enough to wish to spend more time with them, which was something teaching could provide. Every second of their children’s lives was precious; Severus didn’t want to miss a second.

“I thought it would be more amusing this way,” said Severus.

“You just want to see their faces when they see you at the staff table,” muttered Harry. “Orion is going to complain like crazy, although I bet Albus will be thrilled to have you as his head of house _and_ potions teacher. Do you ever wonder what Lily will be?”

“I imagine she will be a Gryffindor like her father and eldest brother. I am thus placing all my hopes upon Silvanus being a Slytherin, so that we may even out in this battle between lion and snake.” Severus gave a long sigh. “Orion will complain for the sake of complaining. I do not teach him and he is not in my house. If he complains too much, I would advise sending a howler to teach him the value of some manners. That boy is more trouble than you were.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that . . . I would be upset to relinquish my title as the student that most annoyed you during all your years of teaching. Still, _I_ had to teach him for six years, which includes the time he was nearly expelled and the times he was suspended, so it’s only fair that you get a taste of what it’s like. I’m actually glad for the year off.”

“It is _hardly_ a ‘year off’. I never thought that – as one graduated – another would be born.”

“Please, you know Silvanus will be just as perfect as the others,” teased Harry.

“It seems we have very different definitions of ‘perfect’.”

Severus half-frowned, but it was clear that his heart wasn’t in it. He was obviously frustrated by Orion’s antics, which was something Harry couldn’t blame him, but he also loved their eldest son and admired him for his confidence and passion, as such he would always express a sense of pride to others when talking about the young man. It was just a shame that he couldn’t tell _Orion_ more, but their son knew that Severus held great trouble in expressing affection and love. Harry smiled lazily at him and rubbed at his stomach.

He thought about how selfless Severus could be. It was hard to think that he once assumed his husband to be nothing but sadistic and shallow, but – over time – he grew to see that there was a great depth to Severus and a huge capacity to love, one that even Severus himself seemed to believe he was incapable of feeling. Lily was – admittedly – an accidental pregnancy, and so was Silvanus for that matter, but Severus refused to show anything other than love and pride for their children, aside from the initial annoyance and disbelief, of course. Severus looked to Harry’s stomach with a rather sincere smile.

“I simply pray that he takes after you,” said Severus kindly.

“Did I tell you how much I love you today?”

“Not today, no.”

Harry carefully stood up and walked around the desk, where he placed a hand upon the top to balance himself. It was actually comforting to feel Severus’ eyes upon his stomach, as his husband reached out and stroked lightly over the robed skin, and it was moments like these that Harry cherished above all else. Severus was quite an affectionate person, but he felt so uncomfortable showing that side of himself to others. In fact, it was years into the marriage before he would even show that side of himself to _Harry_ , and it was a huge gesture from him.

“I love you,” said Harry.

“I abide you,” teased Severus.

Harry let out a loud laugh. He placed a hand over his mouth to hide the act, but luckily Severus appeared to find it endearing and pulled his hand away, before he leant down to place a rather chaste kiss to his husband’s lips. There was a scream from Lily above, followed by shouts from Albus and Orion, and a loud slam of something falling . . . Severus pulled back with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. They would need to go upstairs and resolve whatever fight took place, which meant no lingering kisses and no passionate touches, but – before they left – Severus smiled to him and whispered:

“I love you, Harry.”

 

 


End file.
